


Six are the Ways (to reach heaven by violence)

by firelordstark



Series: Azura's Vengeance [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: 36 Lessons of Vivec, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Video Game, Bugs & Insects, Civil War feels, Culture Shock, Fantastic Racism, Identity Issues, Imperial Cult, Imperial Legion, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Prophecy, Reincarnation, Slavery, Tony Being Tony, awkward metaphors, judgemental Steve, pious Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelordstark/pseuds/firelordstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Indoril Nerevar, great leader of the Dark Elves of Morrowind, was betrayed by those closest to him and doomed to be reborn again and again until he atoned for the mistakes made by his friends.</p>
<p>A few thousand years later, Steve, “an individual of no rank or consequence”, is sent to Morrowind, not knowing the role he will play in that nation's history, or that this is not the first time he has attempted to walk this path.  In this lifetime, though, he will have some help.</p>
<p>(Fusion of the Avengers with the Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, with many artistic liberties taken.  Will be updated irregularly.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting in Seyda Neen

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sleeper in the Cave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/243617) by [Kaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaz/pseuds/Kaz). 



> In an attempt to make Marvel characters fit into the Elder Scrolls universe, I have tweaked some names to be more appropriate for their race, when I could come up with something. Sometimes I couldn't think of something, and sometimes their names were close enough. A list of names will appear at the end of the chapter in which the character first appears/is mentioned.
> 
> Links to books mentioned will also be provided, if the reader is curious. Some are better than others.
> 
> If I missed tagging for something or warning for a specific chapter, please let me know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve begins his adventure in a new land. Nobody asked him if he wanted to come here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: several dead bodies (accompanied by various smells), an offscreen execution, a giant insect
> 
> Special guest appearance this chapter from James "War Machine" Rhodes. ~~Please let me know if it is appropriate to include characters that only appear in one chapter in the tags (I am defaulting to 'no').~~
> 
> ETA 1/26/2014: By reader request, I have updated the character tags to include Marvel characters who have appeared onscreen in at least one chapter, regardless of time period, except for two, because I don't feel right about tagging them when their only actual appearance is when they die.

_If you would learn valor, follow St. Nerevar the Captain, patron of Warriors and Statesmen. Lord Nerevar helped to unite the barbarian Dunmer tribes into a great nation, culminating in his martyrdom when leading the Dunmer to victory against the evil Dwemer and the traitorous House Dagoth in the Battle of Red Mountain._  
-Lives of the Saints

Since reaching the highest rank of the Imperial Legion on Vvardenfell, Athonis Tarth had taken it upon himself to patrol all the roads and settlements under his protection at least once a month. He also checked on the nearby Dwemer ruins, but avoided the Daedric shrines unless he was hunting. Yes, the Daedra were the ancestor spirits of his race, but he wasn't comfortable in their shrines. The architecture made his eyes itch, and the inhabitants were never friendly.

When the ship from the mainland came into view, Athonis had just killed a couple mudcrabs nibbling on the well-dressed corpse of an Imperial near Seyda Neen. Surprisingly, the corpse had a lot of gold in his purse... and a list. Great, a dead tax collector. Worse, a murdered tax collector – the corpse had been beaten to death, not mandibled. Athonis was pretty sure he knew who was going to have to track down and execute the murderer. He could delegate, but he was here to solve problems, and there was no need for someone with less blood on their hands to dispense the emperor's so-called justice.

Athonis detailed a couple guards to toss the mudcrabs in the water so the slaughterfish could get at them and bring the corpses (a Bosmer had spectacularly dropped dead on the road north of town, and Athonis preferred to keep the roads clear of dead people when he had minions available to do the hauling) into the Census and Excise Office so nothing else could munch on them while they figured out what the deceased's funereal wishes were. By the time he'd finished giving out orders, the ship had docked.

***

Before his arrest on false charges, Steve had never left the Imperial City. He was poor and sickly, and thus unsuited for the life of adventure he dreamed about when allowing himself wild fantasies. Perhaps being sent from the streets of the capital of the Empire of Tamriel to the wild country of Morrowind proved what Father Ursine always said when he'd been growing up in the Temple of Stendarr – that the Nine Divines answered the prayers of all mortals, even kinless Colovian foundlings.

Upon being escorted off the ship and entering what looked like an office, Steve saw a figure in heavy red-gold armor, including a full-face helmet, hand a coin purse and a piece of paper to a middle-aged Breton dressed in the robes of a senior bureaucrat. The Breton – a customs agent? - accepted the items without much surprise. “I don't need to remind you of your duty, surely, Sir Knight?”

“No, you don't. I'll look into it,” said the knight, a Dark Elf by his voice, who turned and left without giving Steve more than a glance. He had a perfect Imperial City accent.

The agent turned his attention to Steve. “You would be the prisoner from the Imperial City, I presume. We've been expecting you. Now, we just have a few forms to fill out, and then you'll be released.”

“Released? Here?” He shouldn't have been imprisoned in the first place, much less shipped half-way across the continent and then turned loose in terra incognita. Worse, terra incognita inhabited by Daedra-worshippers. “There must be some mistake. I'm from the Imperial City, never been outside of Cyrodiil before. You can't just uproot me from my whole life! You don't have the authority to-”

“Your transfer was authorized by the Office of the Emperor. You are a citizen of the Empire of Tamriel, correct?” the agent coolly cut off Steve's tirade.

The Office of the Emperor. So, probably not a simple bureaucratic mix-up, then. “Yes. And a loyal servant of the Nine Divines.” Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Despite the acrid tang to the air even inside the customs building (was that from the swamp outside?), it was easier than he was used to after a lifetime of ill health. Something about his body had changed between home and... here. “The emperor has a task for me?” It seemed the Nine had more in mind for him than a short life, a few scribbles, and an unmarked grave. Maybe. If his faith was strong enough.

“You will receive further instructions after we've processed your immigration forms,” the agent confirmed. Still upset, but now assured that he wasn't being abandoned in the land of heathens, Steve was eager to get through the forms... until he saw how thick of a stack they made. “There are a few ways we can do this,” the agent began.

Two hours later, Steve was done with the forms and left the customs building. It was nice to get some fresh air after paperwork, even if it was in a swamp. He had heard about swamps when some veterans of Black Marsh were willing to tell stories, but had never personally smelled one. At least it smelled better than a sewer. The town that had been mostly hidden from the dock by the office building was now entirely hidden by a high stone wall. Despite the smell, the weather was nice and sunny. Then something large and loud made a sound Steve had never heard before, and he decided that was enough fresh air for now.

Entering the second building in the complex, Steve found the Dark Elf knight from before in conversation with two officers of the Imperial Legion. The officers' helmets were open-faced like those used by the legion in Cyrodiil, so Steve could see that one of the officers was a Redguard and the other, like Steve, was an Imperial. It looked like any other legion office (which Steve had seen before, and not because he was a repeat offender), with a wooden desk and chairs and paperwork everywhere, with one notable difference from offices in Cyrodiil: there were two shrouded bodies in the corner of the room, filling the room with the scent of rotting flesh. Steve wasn't sure how the knight and soldiers could ignore it.

The Dark Elf's helmet looked over at Steve. Steve couldn't see anything of his face through the eye slits. “Good, you're done with the forms. We can-” The door opposite the one Steve had used opened, and two guards – lower-ranking members of the Imperial Legion – brought in another body. The smell of burned flesh was added to the smell of rotting flesh. “-take the body down to the storeroom now. Great timing, men, keep going. If you would be so kind, Imperial?” The Dark Elf waved Steve out of the way.

Wordless, Steve moved, holding the door. The guards carried the body out. Unfortunately, the burned smell did not leave as quickly, and the rotting smell did not decline.

“Welcome to Vvardenfell,” said the Dark Elf. “Watch out for the mudcrabs. They got the last tax collector.” He nodded at the source of the rotting corpse smell.

“Sir,” said the Redguard, in tones of “don't scare the new guy”. So, the knight had the respect of the legionnaire, even if he wasn't as sober as a knight should be. That was something.

“Yes, the tax collector was already dead when the crabs found him, but if the Imperial here is fresh off the boat from Cyrodiil, he should watch out for the mudcrabs. In fact, here, to help you feel more at home...” From his inventory, the Dark Elf produced a conical yellow hat with white fur trim on the brim. “I found a Colovian fur helm on my way into town. Here you go. And this will help you discourage any mudcrabs you encounter.”

Steve wasn't sure a fur helm was called for in this climate, regardless of whether it was made in the fashion of western Cyrodiil, but accepted the gifts as graciously as he could under the circumstances. The second gift, an enchanted sword, was definitely called for considering the obvious danger even in settled regions of Vvardenfell, but Steve wasn't sure how useful a weapon he couldn't wield skillfully would be. Moreover, he was not in a position to refuse help. Hopefully the task he was given to pay back the Dark Elf for his generosity would be something he could do in good conscience.

After a pause during which the Dark Elf failed to give Steve a task by which he could repay him for the most expensive gifts Steve had ever received, Steve awkwardly responded. “Thank you.” That was the polite thing to say, wasn't it? “Um, I'm supposed to give my papers to a captain to get my 'release fee'.” Steve looked between the Imperial and the Redguard, who were both captains according to their rank insignia. The Redguard was aiming an expression of 'I can't believe you're doing this' at the Dark Elf, who seemed to be ignoring it, so maybe it was the Dark Elf lacking courtesy, not Steve. The thought was only mildly comforting.

“That would be me,” said the Imperial, who seemed relieved to move the conversation away from the Dark Elf's lack of social delicacy. “Captain Rhodes and Sir Tarth are just visiting. I'm the captain stationed at the Seyda Neen Census and Excise Office. Here's your release fee,” he handed Steve a coin purse, “and here are your instructions.” A sealed package and an unsealed letter were handed over. “Go to the town of Balmora and deliver the package to Caius Cosades. Cosades will give you further instructions. Serve him as you would the emperor himself.”

Steve saw the Dark Elf – Sir Tarth - and the Redguard – Captain Rhodes - exchange a look. Yes, that sounded pretty shady. And yet, the emperor was the defender of the Faith, as well as the supreme ruler of the known world by the grace of Akatosh and all the gods, and Steve was bound by love and duty to serve him. “Understood.”

Tarth did not comment, thank Stendarr's Mercy, and even better, the guards returned and removed one of the corpses. Sadly, the smell remained as strong as ever.

“I can show you how to use that sword,” offered Rhodes. “You should know how to defend yourself, especially if you're going to be going on,” he eyed the package, “official business. I'm going to be gone a few weeks, maybe more. Since you obviously can't pay me for training now, you can pay me when I get back, if you're still alive by then. I usually operate out of the Hawkmoth garrison, in Ebonheart.”

Steve agreed, and they stepped back into the refreshingly open-air yard. The legion could protect him from the wildlife if necessary. Tarth followed them a moment later, leaving the remaining captain to his paperwork.

Tarth crossed the yard and entered the census office building. Rhodes showed Steve how to swing a sword without being a danger to himself or to the guards on corpse rearrangement duty. The unsettling noise from earlier repeated itself at intervals. When he saw how Steve tensed up at the sound, Rhodes told him not to worry about it. Tarth emerged from the census office and leaned against the wall, out of the way of training. Steve tried to ignore his helmeted gaze. After the guards left and Steve started to get the hang of the exercises Rhodes was showing him, he asked, “So, is this many deaths normal?”

“No, Seyda Neen's usually pretty quiet as far as dead bodies go,” answered Tarth, speaking up for the first time since leaving the office and ignoring Rhodes' 'do not distract my student' look. “One was actually accidental suicide, according to the journal I found. Idiot wanted to jump miles into the air instead of levitating. The other two were a tax collector that was murdered for being obnoxious, and the stupid fetcher who was executed for murdering the tax collector.”

Oddly, the explanation made Steve feel better. None of the deaths had resulted from minding one's own business, which boded well for public safety. Excluding the safety of tax collectors. Steve had lived in the Waterfront district of the Imperial City, where the poor were under the protection of the Thieves Guild, so he did not have personal experience with tax collection, though he was aware it was not a profession you go into if you want people to like you. Like his neighbors, Steve never made enough money to justify the cost of collecting taxes, so the empire didn't bother. Especially since the tax money was always stolen back by the guild as soon as it was collected. Steve was not entirely comfortable with the situation, but he couldn't afford to live in a more expensive district, and Thieves Guild members were generally nice people.

After about an hour, Tarth called a halt to the training. Apparently he could do that. “Rhodes, you need to get on the road to Fort Frostmoth soon. Steve, you could use some practice on live targets.”

“Sir.” Rhodes saluted Sir Tarth, confusing Steve, then stepped closer to whisper to the red-gold helmet. Steve politely didn't eavesdrop. After making his point, Rhodes wished Steve luck and left. Once they were alone, Steve faced Sir Tarth and shifted into a ready stance.

“Hold on. When I said you needed to practice on live targets, I wasn't volunteering myself as a training dummy. A few bandits have moved into a cave nearby. You can take care of the easier ones, and if you run into any trouble, I'll be right behind you.”

Steve lowered his sword. “Take care of...” Less than six hours on this island and someone was asking him to kill bandits. Had he changed so much? Back in the Imperial City, he was more likely to be the one receiving large helpings of hurt, rather than the one dishing the hurt out. Or was he being led to his death? Was that why Tarth had waited for Rhodes to leave first?

But that couldn't be it. Tarth had watched Rhodes make an agreement with Steve, which depended on Steve surviving for the next few weeks. Tarth and Rhodes knew each other and seemed on friendly terms, so Tarth should want him to stay alive so he could pay his friend. Also, Tarth gave Steve gifts. On the other hand, Tarth gave Steve gifts, and hadn't asked for anything, so depending on Tarth to follow the codes of civilized exchange was not a good bet. Maybe the bandit-slaying is the task Tarth wanted done? Awkward how he waited so long to ask, though.

A horrible thought struck Steve. What if they didn't follow the codes of civilized exchange here? Then he remembered Rhodes generously making arrangements for Steve to repay him, and realized that yes, there were civilized people here. Hopefully, most people in Morrowind were civilized, and not like Tarth.

As for killing bandits... Steve's closest friends were in the Imperial Legion, and he would have joined if he'd been hale enough, but because he wanted to help people, not because he was especially bloodthirsty. The legion kept the peace across Tamriel in the name of the emperor. If Tarth was serious, and wanted him to help eliminate some dangerous criminals, this would be like a fantasy come to life. “You really think I can do this?”

“Sure. You've got the basic moves down, you just need experience. If Cosades does send you on secret missions, I'm sure you'll have to fight people who want you dead sooner than later. If not because you know too much, then because you walked too far from a guarded town. The Legion isn't everywhere – which is why I'm patrolling this area today, actually – and you should be ready to defend yourself at all times. So let's go.”

Steve numbly sheathed his sword and followed Tarth from the yard back into the legion captain's office. Tarth grabbed a map and a small, leather-bound book off a table, flipped through it, then handed it and a graphite stick to Steve. The legion captain nodded in greeting but didn't object. At last, Tarth and Steve stepped through the other door and into the town proper.

The buildings closest to them were wood and stone roofed with thatch. Farther away were a few wooden shacks roofed with thatch. Steve did not think they looked very sturdy or weatherproof. The non-building features of note were a tree, a pond, and several glowing mushrooms. Was that normal? None of the townspeople seemed to be interested in the glowing mushrooms, so they may be safe.

Tarth interrupted Steve's perusal of his surroundings. “You should probably keep a journal of what you're supposed to be doing and where you're supposed to be doing it. I'm part of a group of enchanters working on making magical compasses to make navigation easier, like they have in Cyrodiil, but until we get everything worked out you'll need some way to remember if the sugartooth who gave you directions said to go left or right at the third fork south of the kagouti lair.”

Steve blinked, and put the mushrooms out of his mind for now. “I only understood about half of that. Should you be taking legion property and handing it out to strangers?”

“One: Write down your assignments and any directions people give you. Is that clear enough? Two: You're on official imperial business, entitled to any reasonable support the legion can provide. Also, the captain has plenty of paper, I'm sure he's happy to see some leave. Three: I am the highest-ranking member of the Imperial Legion on this island. Athonis Tarth, Knight of the Imperial Dragon, at your service, citizen.” Tarth executed a courtly bow, demonstrating his agility while wearing a full suit of heavy armor.

“Oh.” Steve was not sure what his face looked like now, or whether he was actually dreaming all this. “That explains a few things. Thank you for the escort, Sir Knight.” Come to think of it, that name sounded familiar. “Are you the Athonis Tarth that was undefeated champion of the City Battlecollege Tournament for ten years before...” you left under mysterious circumstances. Maybe that wasn't the best way to finish a sentence.

Tarth let the unsaid portion of the question remain unsaid, and quickly changed the subject. “Yes, I'm that Athonis Tarth. The cave is this way. We can take the silt strider to Balmora afterwards.”

“Silt strider?” Steve asked as they crossed a small bridge, smothering the excited questions his inner adoring fan had wanted to ask years ago. Tarth pointed to the giant insect that had been hidden by buildings until now. It was now obvious what had been making that disquieting noise. “Oh. Okay.” Being asked to help hunt down dangerous criminals in their lair by a famous battlemage was definitely fantasy material. Steve had had several variations on it over the years. He had not fantasized about giant bugs as a method of transportation, though, so this may not be a dream after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:  
> Sir Athonis Tarth - Tony "Iron Man" Stark  
> Steve - Steve "Captain America" Rogers  
> Father Abramus Ursine - Dr. Abraham Erskine  
> Captain Rhodes - James "War Machine" Rhodes
> 
> Books:  
> [Lives of the Saints](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Lives_of_the_Saints)  
> [Tax Record](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Tax_Record)  
> [Directions to Caius Cosades](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Directions_to_Caius_Cosades)  
> [Journel of Tarhiel](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Journal_of_Tarhiel)


	2. Legion Ethics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several bandits die and Steve meets his official patron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Non-graphic violence and death (including a beheading), slavery, the giant insect, implied drug use, drugs, judgemental attitudes, inhumane animal steering methods

_But consider the shame of the Empire's mute acceptance to the unspeakable practice of slavery in Morrowind. Instead of using our Imperial legions to free the wretched Khajiit and Argonian slaves from their Dark Elf masters, we pay our troopers to PROTECT the indefensible institution of slavery. Within the ebony mines of Morrowind, bloated monopolists under Imperial charters exploit slave labor to harvest the outrageous profits assured by rampant graft and corruption._  
-The Eastern Provinces Impartially Considered

They did not encounter any mudcrabs as Tarth led him around a hill to a mossy cave entrance bracketed by clusters of glowing mushrooms. As he approached, Steve decided he did not want to get killed by bandits without knowing why. “Wait. Before we go in, I need to know: are you asking me to kill the bandits to repay you for the gifts?”

Tarth's helmet tilted. “No. The gifts were to gain your favor. Has no one given you a goodwill gift before?” Based on tone, Steve tentatively labeled the head-tilt 'humans are weird'. But he knew Tarth lived in the Imperial City for years. Surely he had learned to behave in civilized society. Wait, battlemages were nobles, so maybe he hadn't learned.

“A gift that expensive? No. On the waterfront, if someone gives you a present that expensive, they want something from you.”

“How do you make friends if you aren't allowed to give presents to people you don't have a prior relationship with?” Tarth sounded confused and exasperated.

“Then you buy them a drink, not a sword,” Steve sighed. “I am grateful for the sword, I can see I need it here, but... you said you wanted to gain my favor. Just tell me what you want from me.” If Tarth said sex, Steve... was not sure he could turn him down. If memory served, the elf was very attractive, and he did owe him, but sex was not a favor he was comfortable trading this early in a relationship.

“I'm not sure yet, but you seem worth cultivating. If you can manage to stay alive. It's a good idea to have friends in many places. Some people use bribes; I prefer to be a bit less impersonal.”

Cultivating. Steve had been compared to plenty of things less pleasant or useful than garden herbs. Tarth wanted to weed and water him and make sure he got plenty of sunlight? He wasn't sure Tarth was being honest about his motives, but he'd go along with it for now. “So I'm killing bandits with you backing me up to keep me alive, because I might be useful to you later.”

“Essentially.”

“I guess I can live with that.” Ignoring Tarth's muffled snort, Steve entered the cave first, sword at the ready. He didn't have a chance to notice more than that there was an upside down boat beyond the stalactites when the first bandit attacked.

“Die, fetcher!” A Dark Elf woman screamed, and came at Steve with an odd-looking dagger. After a few wild sword swings while Steve attempted to strike the bandit while avoiding her dagger thrusts, the woman lay dead and Steve only had a few cuts.

Then Tarth came forward and cast a healing spell on Steve, and he didn't even have the cuts. “You did pretty well for someone who'd never killed anyone before.”

“I'm not sure if that's a compliment.” When Steve had been a teenager watching the special battlecollege games from the cheapest seats in their arena, he had idolized the dashing, exotic Athonis Tarth, and fantasized about being able to assist him. Now that he was actually fighting alongside his hero, he regretted every wish he'd made to be in this position. What had seemed glorious in the arena seemed empty and ugly now.

“It is. You still need more practice, but Vvardenfell has plenty of opportunities for that.”

“I think I'm going to be sick.”

“There's a bucket by the boat.”

After Steve settled his gorge, he asked if he should pray to Arkay to look after the bandit's soul. Tarth told him he should never do that unless he was sure that the deceased wanted those rites.

“Why wouldn't they?” Steve asked. “I thought Morrowind hated necromancy. Arkay's rites protect the dead against being used like that.”

“The rites also prevent their descendants from communicating with them after death. I know you're not a priest, and you can't do the full rites, but just don't do it.”

“I didn't know you could talk to the dead without black magic.”

“Only if you're a Dunmer.”

“Have you talked to your ancestors? What's it like?”

“I used to, sometimes. They're less helpful than living elders, actually. Being dead makes you out of touch.”

After sharing that mind-blowing information, Tarth smoothly changed the topic to which items in the corpse's inventory were worth keeping. Since Steve didn't have much, that was more than usual. The strange dagger was made out of an insect-produced material, which Tarth said was common in Morrowind. The armor was too small for Steve to wear, but he kept it to sell later. There was also a key, which Steve kept on Tarth's advice. No one came up to the entrance from further in the cave. Apparently bandits on Vvardenfell didn't move around very much.

Moving past the entrance chamber, they saw the reason for the key. “Are those...”

“Slaves, yes. It's permitted by the treaty that annexed Morrowind into the Empire. Go see if that key fits their slave bracers.”

It did. All three slaves (two of the lizard-like Argonians, one of the cat-like Khajiit) were grateful to be freed. Tarth advised stealth since they hadn't finished clearing out the bandits, and gave each of the three beastfolk some gold, “for travel and snacks.” Steve supposed charity was an acceptable impulse in these circumstances, though Tarth's habit of not asking for anything in return for personal gifts was still weird. Was he interested in cultivating these beast-people as well, or did he just give presents to everyone he met?

As Steve and Tarth moved further into the cave, the slaves vanished towards the exit, the pile of empty slave bracers the only sign that the cell had once been occupied. As well as the smell, but Steve was going to ignore that for the sake of his temper. He felt better about killing that bandit now.

The next bandit they encountered was a Dark Elf mage. Tarth stepped in front of Steve. “Stay back, I've got this one.” The bandit threw a fireball at them, which left Tarth unaffected. Tarth responded with lightning, which sent the bandit to his knees long enough for Tarth to charge forward and behead him with one precise blow of his axe.

“Look out!” Steve cried as a third Dark Elf bandit began to hurl throwing stars at Tarth. She glanced at Steve, deeming him to be a lesser threat. In that moment of distraction, Tarth cast lightning again, and then Steve charged. In a few seconds, it was over. They had killed together. That was... something.

Tarth was uninjured, the bandit not being a precise enough marksman to hit the weak points in his armor with her throwing stars. Steve had a few throwing stars embedded in his arms and torso, and one had clipped his ear. Tarth helped him remove the stars, and joked about needing to learn a spell to remake human ears into the proper, pointed, shape. Fortunately for Steve, the battlemage's magic was sufficient to restore Steve to full working order, human ear shape included.

Then the looting commenced.

“Isn't this illegal?” Steve held up a bottle of skooma and a sack of moon sugar.

“Yes, but we're going to Balmora. You can sell it to the Khajiit in their chapter of the Mages Guild.”

“...The head of the Imperial Legion, responsible for enforcing the law, is telling me to traffic in illegal drugs.”

“I'm more concerned with road safety and unauthorized murder than unauthorized commerce, honestly, but there's an argument to be made here. For one: If you removing drugs from a bandit lair, then they won't be here when the next set of bandits moves in here. Two: If you are rewarded for doing so, you are more likely to keep doing so. Three: If merchants buy drugs from you, they aren't supporting the smugglers, because let's be honest here, if somebody wants drugs they're going to get them somehow. Might as well be money in the pocket of the local alchemist and not the Camonna Tong. Four: You need spending money. Now, let's see if there's some decent armor in your size in these crates.”

Steve began to doubt that Tarth was actually a member of the Imperial Legion. He could fight, yes, but his ethical standards were too flexible. Did he even have ethical standards? On the other hand, Steve was not in a position to refuse help, and Tarth had been downright generous to him. And he was curious whether Tarth was as attractive under his helmet as he'd been ten years ago.

They managed to find a few pieces of bug armor (that was what Steve was going to call it) in the crates that fit Steve, including a helmet. “There you are,” Tarth sounded like he was grinning. “You look like a proper Vvardenfell adventurer now.”

Steve was pretty sure he looked like a giant insect with vision problems. “So, Balmora now?”

“Balmora,” Tarth agreed, ushering Steve out of the cave. Steve was fine with being ushered right now. Ushering sounded good.

Steve had forgotten about the silt strider. Hopefully his new outfit didn't remind the giant bug of anything that upset it. Then they got to the top of the hill and Steve saw the rods sticking out of the exposed tissue and he spent the entire ride along the Odai River staring in horror.

Forms. Rotting corpses. Giant bugs. Murderous criminals. Slavery. Illegal drugs. Bug armor. And now... describing this with the phrase “animal cruelty” seemed insufficient. How could Tarth sleep while this was going on? Why did he not take his helmet off?

By the time the giant bug express arrived at another platform, it was after nightfall. Steve nudged Tarth awake, and they disembarked. Balmora seemed to be made from light brown clay. The buildings were boxy with flat roofs, waist-high walls around the edge of some roofs, and slightly rounded corners. A wall extended west and east over the river from the silt strider platform. The building across the street from the silt strider platform had a banner flying in front of it, and a few people were drinking at a table on the roof. From the sound, it was probably a tavern. Steve thought he saw Daedric writing on the banner and failed at reserving judgment.

At the bottom of the stairs to the platform, Tarth asked, “So, do you want to sell some stuff, buy some stuff, find Cosades, come home with me, what?”

“What?” Steve couldn't have heard that right. Tarth hadn't only been famous for his skill as a battlemage, but surely the rumors had exaggerated.

“I have an extra bed if you want a place to stay. For the night.”

Steve's eyes were hooded inside his helmet as he considered the offer. The emperor's orders were clear on who was to be giving him instructions, and it wasn't Tarth. However, the elf had provided support and advice, and now was offering Steve hospitality in a strange city. Right now, Steve needed all the friends he could get.

“Thank you, I'll gladly accept your hospitality. I need to deliver my package first, though, and no offense but I'd like to do that on my own. Um, do you know where the South Wall Cornerclub is?”

“Fair enough. My house is along this wall, just across the river.” Tarth pointed. “The South Wall is on the other side of my house. I have some errands to run, but I should be home soon, and I'll wait up for you.”

“Thanks. I'll see you soon.” Steve really hoped Tarth did not wear his helmet at home.

Tarth headed down the street to the left, away from the river, and Steve headed toward the river, and the South Wall, as instructed. This was his task, and he should be able to handle it alone.

There were three causeway bridges over the river, which ran south through the entire town. Steve saw another wall on the north side of the city as he crossed the southernmost causeway. Passing under the archway next to Tarth's house, which was at least three stories high but otherwise not much different from its neighbors, Steve saw a banner twitching in the breeze in front of a building. This banner, like the one for the tavern across from the silt strider port, had Daedric writing on it. Fortunately for Steve, who couldn't read it, there was also an illustration of a wall. Some helpful soul had also scratched 'Soth Waal' in the Imperial alphabet onto the door. Steve hoped their Daedric was better than their Imperial.

Just inside, Steve encountered a Nord woman who offered to sell him a torch at a discount, since he was so cute. Steve politely declined, and asked if Caius Cosades was around.

“That old sugar tooth? He's not here tonight, and I don't know where he lives. Ask the owner, he might know.” The Nord gestured that Steve should go up the stairs near the door. Steve hoped 'sugar-tooth' didn't mean what he thought.

The owner, an Imperial named Bacola Closcius, was much more helpful, providing detailed instructions on how to reach Cosades' house, including which door to use to exit the South Wall. He was very firm about not using the second floor exit.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What's wrong with using the second floor exit?”

“It's just a door to a balcony. There's no street access.”

“...There's no street access, and that's all.”

“Right.”

“It doesn't lock behind me so I can't come back inside.”

“Well when you put it like that...” Closcius seemed to realize how odd his insistence on which door to use was. “I wanted to save you the confusion. The balcony walls for most buildings in Balmora are low enough so you can jump over if you need to get to the street, or have exterior stairs down, but mine is different.”

“...Okay. Thank you for the directions.” Steve went back down the stairs so he could exit through the ground-level door. Out the door, up the stairs immediately to the right, turn left, head to the end of the street. The door at the end of the street, next to a tree growing out of the hillside, had a small paper square tacked into it. In Imperial, it said “This domicile has been rented to the Imperial male Caius Cosades.” There were a few more lines in Daedric, probably saying the same thing. Steve knocked.

A few minutes later, Steve was retracing his steps to Tarth's house. Cosades had inducted him into the secretive Order of the Blades, and Steve had been sure he'd been joking until Cosades handed him 200 gold and told him to go out and get some more experience. He'd also said Steve was allowed to use his bed, but the one-room apartment smelled like a sugar-den. Because it was a sugar-den. The emperor had told him to obey the orders of a moon sugar addict. Steve had exactly two friends in the city willing to let him bunk with them, and he was going to bunk with the one who had a job that could be mentioned in public and who wasn't addicted to illegal drugs. Steve did have enough gold to pay for a room at an inn, but he much preferred to sleep in the same building as a friend than in a building full of strangers.

When Tarth answered Steve's knock on the door, he was not wearing his helmet, or any armor, and he was just as handsome as Steve remembered. More handsome, really, since Steve had never been this close to him. And he was smiling at Steve.

Tarth gave him dinner (something involving insects which Steve was not ready to absorb yet) and a sleeping robe (more expensive than his actual clothes), and showed him to the spare bedroom on the top floor before heading downstairs to do something involving paper, pen, and ink. Steve was quite happy to eat, change, and fall right to sleep. His night was dreamless. That would not be the case again for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books:  
> [The Eastern Provinces Impartially Considered](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:The_Eastern_Provinces...)
> 
> Changes inspired by mods:  
> Bart Notelaers' "Unique Banners and Signs" plugin for the illustration on the South Wall's banner. I'll probably be referring to the pictures on banners again.


	3. A New Life in a New Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve discovers breakfast can be an attack, and Athonis has many talents. I apologize for the lack of explicit sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: judgemental attitudes, even less-graphic violence, possible dubcon (one participant views sex as a way to pay back the other participant for helping him, while the other participant is unaware of this issue)

_Though the Imperial cults acknowledges the lords and saints of the Temple pantheon as worthy inspirations, the Temple falsely insists that theirs is the One True Faith, and that the Imperial cults worship false gods._  
-For my Gods and Emperor (handbook for the Imperial Cult)

Athonis was not often moved by the desire to invite a near-stranger to sleep in his home, especially when the desire was not exclusively carnal. This human was triggering some heretofore unknown caretaker instinct. He'd think it was the charm Imperials were renowned for, but he had experience with that charm and it never lasted this long, nor was it ever this subtle. Nor was he interested in treating the human like offspring. That never worked out with humans. No matter how young and adorable they start out, Athonis would be all but untouched by time while they were dying surrounded by grandchildren. Athonis found humans to be at their most entertaining when they were between the child and elder stages.

Maybe he'd latched onto this human because Rhodes was going to be away investigating Fort Frostmoth for some time, and Steve was obviously lost and in need of personal attention. Hopefully Steve would be more amenable to personal attention than Rhodes had been. There had been a delicate conversation about 'abuse of power' and 'violation of ethics' which Athonis could only follow in theory. Surely these were only suggested guidelines. Rhodes refused to accept personal attention from Athonis, though, which was the salient point, and he hoped his new human would prove more receptive.

If the way Steve had stared at his face when he let the human inside, Steve was well on the way to being receptive. The human remembered Athonis' real name from his tournament years, despite Athonis competing officially under an Imperial-style name so he wouldn't have to listen to everyone mangle the pronunciation. Learning and remembering the real name of a combatant was something only a serious fan would do, and Athonis was a connoisseur of fans.

Their conversation outside the bandit cave was confusing, though. Steve had been upset about accepting Athonis' gifts and wanted to pay him back somehow, rather then letting the gifts be proof of Athonis' friendly intentions. He didn't actually reject the gifts, so Athonis felt more comfortable inviting him to use his spare bed, but not comfortable enough to invite him to share Athonis' bed. The poor human looked completely out of his depth by the time they'd left Seyda Neen, and wandering the city looking for his mysterious patron was not a replacement for meditation and rest. He'd wait until Steve was more comfortable in Morrowind before making his move.

Athonis had demonstrated his usefulness as an ally in battle, as a mentor with his local knowledge, and as a host with his generosity. He'd shown an interest in Steve's good health, education, and comfort. If Cosades was encouraging him to cultivate multiple patrons, which he would if he wanted Steve's official connections to stay secret, Athonis wanted to be first in line. Tomorrow would show whether Steve would stay close enough to enjoy Athonis' protection, or strike out on his own.

So far he'd been able to match his itinerary to Steve's with only minor adjustments. However, if his duties and Steve's took them in different directions, he would have to let the newcomer sink or swim on his own merits. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't introduce him to trustworthy allies. Athonis made a list of friends who could be in a position to help Steve if he wound up in their area of influence, and wrote letters to each of them. He'd drop them off at the Mages Guild for transport in the morning.

***

Steve woke refreshed the next morning and came downstairs to find Tarth, fully armored save for a helmet, slicing a boiled egg as big as his head. “Good morning,” he said, staring. One did not often see the domestic side of a handsome battlemage.

“Good morning. This is kwama egg, fresh from Shulk Egg Mine. Back in the Imperial City, people would pay quite a bit for this.” Tarth set the slices on a stone counter and held both hands over them, toasting the slices carefully with a fire spell. He then plated a few slices and passed them to Steve. “Try it.”

Certain that a 'kwama' was an insect, Steve looked at the food dubiously for a moment. It did smell appetizing, though still weird. He tentatively picked up a slice, and quickly dropped it, waving his hand to cool his fingers. “Hot! Hot hot.”

Tarth relieved him of the plate, then caught Steve's flailing arm by the wrist. “Sorry, forgot you weren't Dunmer. Let me see. Doesn't look too bad, but let me heal it anyway.” Tarth's magic quickly soothed the inflamed flesh. “I could freeze the eggs, but it's probably better to just wait until they're safe for you to touch.”

“Why weren't you hurt?” Steve thought fleetingly of the human maternal practice of 'kissing it better' and wondered if elves had the same custom.

“Because I'm a Dunmer. I thought every tournament fan knew about which attacks were less effective against which races. You don't use ice on a Nord, fire on a Dunmer, poison on an Argonian, or non-elemental magic on an Altmer.”

Steve hadn't known about the Altmer, but the rest of the list was familiar to him. “I'm not used to thinking of breakfast as an attack.”

“Then you probably aren't cut out to be a Morag Tong assassin.” Tarth appeared to be making a note to himself as he picked up one of the un-plated toasted boiled egg slices and ate it without any evidence of discomfort.

Steve chuckled, then realized, “That was an option?” Right, assassination was legal in Morrowind. And slavery. And Daedra worship. This would never be his home.

“Sure. They accept outlanders. Your patron did suggest joining a faction, right? There are plenty to choose from, but I'd advise against joining a Great House unless you want to get involved in petty bickering and millennia-long feuds.” Tarth turned serious. “I realize you didn't ask to come here, but there are a lot of opportunities in Vvardenfell right now. You can start a new life, take risks, be the person you've always wanted to be.”

Ignoring the pang of loss Tarth's pep talk roused, Steve concentrated on the final words. The person he'd always wanted to be...

“Magic or thieving appeal to you?”

“I am not a thief!” Just, no. Just because he was from the poor district didn't make him a thief. He earned his living honestly, no matter how meager!

“All right, calm down. I'm just being thorough here. If you change your mind you can ask around at the South Wall Cornerclub.”

Of course his drug-addict patron hung out with the Thieves Guild. Before Steve could work up enough steam for a rant, Tarth asked him about magic again. “No, I've never been much interested in studying magic.” Except for his teenage phase when he hero-worshiped a certain champion battlemage, but he never had enough money to afford something as useless to a street artist who worked on paper as buying spells. Also, hard work was much more effective at actually helping people than magic, and helping people was what he wanted to do.

“Okay. Then there's the Fighters Guild, Imperial Legion, and finally the Temple and the Imperial Cult.”

“I can join the Cult?” Steve had heard that in the far reaches of the Empire, where the natives were heathens but the legions still needed spiritual guidance, the needs of the faithful were tended to by holy men and women who served all nine of the Divines. In Cyrodiil, each Divine had their own temple, and multiple orders of priests, since there were many ways in which one could serve a god. Vvardenfell seemed like a place filled with heathens. Tarth was clearly a heathen, listing the cult last, and Steve was sure he wasn't leaving it until last because it was the most desirable option.

“Sure. The legion forts all have cult shrines, but the headquarters is in Ebonheart. There usually aren't shrines in the cities, since religious Dunmer tend to worship the Living Tribunal, not the Nine Divines. So, you want to head down there and join?”

“Just like that?”

“I think there's a one-time fee when you join. Actually, I'm heading out to Fort Moonmoth right now. You can talk to the cult members there, and it's on the way to Ebonheart if you want to get started doing whatever it is they want you do do.”

“Yeah, I'd like that.” Steve held his hand over the egg slices, then gingerly poked one to see if it was cool enough to eat. It was. “Thank you for making breakfast. I'll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Was Tarth blushing as he waved off Steve's offer of repayment? “Don't worry about it. Sorry about the heat issue.”

After breakfast, Tarth led the way between steep, grassy hills dotted with boulders and the occasional bright flower to the fort outside of town. The walls were made from sharply rectangular stone blocks, clearly much newer than the crumbling old stone forts back home in Cyrodiil. Inside, Tarth pointed Steve toward the cult members and headed down to get verbal reports from the fort's ranking officers. Then he started going through the written reports.

Steve talked to the cult members about what was asked of lay servants, then spent an hour or so in prayer. _Akatosh, help me endure this strange land. Dibella,_ Steve blushed, _thank you for letting me meet Athonis. Arkay, thank you for my health as I enter this new season in my life. Zenithar, allow me to labor for your glory. Mara, grant me the patience I will surely need. Kynareth, please protect me from the wildlife. Julianos, grant me wisdom in the choices I make. Talos, thank you for the protection and order of your Empire. Stendarr, thank you for your mercy, and please watch over Peggia and Janus as they serve in the Legion._

Once he was finished praying, Steve went to find Tarth. Tarth was still reading and initialing reports, so Steve talked to the fort's healer about learning a simple healing spell. Thanks to Cosades, he had enough money to buy it even after paying the fee to join the Imperial Cult.

Tarth appeared as Steve was finishing his transaction. “Hey, Steve. I'm told a group of bandits have started looting the Dwemer ruins nearby. If you want some more weapons practice, you can come with me, fight the ones you can handle, and loot the place afterwards.”

“Aren't we killing the bandits for looting the ruins?”

“Mostly we're killing them because they'd try to kill anyone who sees them.”

Steve sighed at how arbitrarily laws were enforced, but agreed, and they followed the path up the steep hill north of the fort to a bridge over a steep valley shaped from volcanic rock. On the other side of the bridge, Steve could see what must be Dwarven towers jutting out of rocky wasteland. There were no green things on the Dwarf side of the bridge, and shadows moved ominously in the space behind the spires. But first they had to cross the bridge.

There was a human wizard on the bridge, but, to only the wizard's surprise, he was no match for Tarth. Steve made himself useful by distracting the wizard's conjured skeleton, which disappeared as soon as the wizard died. “Want his armor?” Tarth asked afterwards. “He looks about your size.”

Steve thought the wizard's body armor looked better than what he was wearing, so the switch was made. Though he thought he saw something flying in the distance, nothing else attacked them before they entered the ruin. Inside, it was dark, with a long abrupt drop just past the entrance-way. Strange mechanical noises provided a white noise screen for anything that might be sneaking up on them. They had to follow a path of fallen masonry around the edge of the cavern to get down to the floor. Then, of course, they were attacked by the bandits.

“This is kind of pathetic,” Tarth commented after the fourth bandit fell. All four of the races of men had been represented, but none of them seemed to be any good at fighting. He'd stayed back and let Steve fight, then healed any minor injuries. There weren't many. “Were they just here to provide someone with target practice? They're not even wearing any armor.”

Instead of replying, Steve said, “I've been meaning to ask, what kind of armor are you wearing? I've never seen anything like it before.”

Despite being completely covered in armor, Tarth managed to preen. “It's one of a kind. I figured out how to infuse Daedra hearts into Dwemer armor, which allows it to hold more powerful enchantments. The distinctive color is a side effect.”

Steve took a quick step back. “Daedra hearts?” What if there were side effects besides color?

“Steve. My armor is not going to bite you. I've worn it for years, and nothing horrible has happened because I invented a new smithing technique.”

“You're sure it's not going to come to life and start eating people?”

“I'm sure. The daedra the hearts came from weren't very intelligent. If they could have hurt someone using my armor, they would have done it by now.”

Steve reluctantly conceded the point, but he was still leery of the armor.

Tarth had been through this ruin before, and guided Steve in a systematic sweep through the interconnected rooms. He also showed Steve how to recognize when there was a trap attached to a door or lid, and how to use a probe to disarm the trap safely. “If you were a thief, you'd already know this,” Tarth smirked. Steve rolled his eyes.

The door to the lower levels was still locked, so they didn't bother with that, and the room with the lava pit required the ability to fly to get across, so they left that along as well. Finally, they returned to the first chamber and went up to the balcony level.

Steve found a spear and experimentally made a few thrusts with it. To Athonis' eye, Steve would be better off sticking with his sword. However, Athonis was also reminded of a certain private club where women in impractical armor demonstrated their flexibility while dancing with spears. All he said aloud was that the smith at the fort would be happy to buy that off him when they were finished with their sweep, so Steve stored the spear in his inventory.

Steve led the way into the room off the balcony, and was immediately attacked by a human bandit who was actually wearing armor. As Steve stepped backwards to gain some room, Tarth stepped forward at his side and sent a massive fireball at the bandit boss. The bandit was killed instantly and his body thrown halfway across the room.

“Okay, that was too much. Well, better burned than undercooked. Are you all right, Steve?”

Steve was surprised by how easily combat skill came to him, nauseated at the smell and quickness of death, and slightly turned on at the display of raw power on his behalf. “Yeah, you got him before he could land one on me.” He walked over to examine what the boss had been carrying. Quite a bit as it turned out, most of it lucrative, some of it even useful.

Once Steve had picked out what he wanted to carry back to the fort and sell, they left the metal halls of the vanished Dwarves for the stone block halls of the mightiest fighting force on all Tamriel, if Legion recruiting posters were to be believed. Tarth had thought the Dwarven puzzle box looked interesting, so he had pocketed it to take home and study. The next group of bandits to come through here might take it away before he got around to killing them, and he couldn't have that.

Steve sold his lucrative-but-not-useful loot and bought some surplus legion armor, and other traveling supplies. He felt even stronger now than he had after waking up on the ship here, which was stronger than he had at any time in the Imperial City – strong enough, now, to carry a shield. If he was going to be an adventurer serving Stendarr and the rest of the Divines, Steve was going to carry a shield in honor of the god whose temple had sheltered him when he was small and parent-less. The sun was still up, so after Tarth wished him well Steve set out on foot, following the signposts to Ebonheart.

After performing a few tasks for the cult, it became obvious to Steve that he was going to need a source of income. The gifts he received for completing the tasks could usually be sold for a decent amount, but not enough to defray the costs of travel, and he usually didn't want to sell them. So, he headed back to Balmora and asked his patron for orders.

Caius' orders were to go to the Fighters Guild and do one of the members a favor in exchange for information on certain banned cults. As it turned out, the favor was to fetch the Dwarven cube Tarth had taken from the nearby ruins. Steve headed over to Tarth's house to ask permission to take the cube.

He found the cube, but no Tarth. Steve considered waiting at the house, but that could be a while. He'd met Tarth while he was in another town on Imperial Legion business, and since Tarth was in theory in charge of all territory on the island with an Imperial presence, he might be away for days. Checking in at Fort Moonmoth would give him an idea of where and when to start looking for Tarth.

The officers at the fort hadn't seen Tarth since Steve had been there last, but suggested Steve tried the Dwarven ruin again. Apparently Tarth liked Dwarven ruins.

No one attacked Steve this time when he made his way down to the main chamber. He had almost completed his sweep through the formerly bandit-occupied levels when he noticed the locked door to the lower levels was ajar. Steve cautiously entered.

Whoever had unlocked the door knew how to take care of themselves, and wasn't out to loot everything they could carry. Steve passed several broken automatons and piles of what he thought might be ectoplasm, as well as shelves of Dwarven tableware undisturbed since their previous owners were alive. Since he was more interested in finding Tarth, who he hoped was the one down here, than in enriching himself, Steve left the artifacts undisturbed as well.

Several tunnels later, Steve came to a tall cavern, partially flooded, with multiple floors that were too high above the water to jump or climb to. A figure in red-gold armor stood on the edge of one of the floors. Steve smiled. He opened he mouth to call out a greeting... and then the figure stepped over the edge into the air, hovered for a few seconds, then dropped abruptly to hover again, then dropping again. This continued until the figure hit the water with a splash. Steve watched the figure swim his way, announcing himself once Tarth was walking out of the water.

“Steve! I didn't expect to see you so soon.” Tarth motioned with his hands, invoking a spell, and steam began rising from his armor, drying him.

“It turns out doing odd jobs for the Imperial Cult isn't very profitable, so I decided to actually find out what the Emperor wants me to do. Can we talk at your house? I looked for you there first, then asked at the fort, and they said you might be here.”

“Yeah, I should probably check in with them more often when I'm in the area. So, after you left, I took a look at the Dwemer puzzle box-”

“That cube?”

“Yes, the cube. It had instructions on making a key to the lower levels, so I did that and then investigated.”

Steve would have made a comment about going into strange and dangerous places by yourself, but Tarth was clearly more than capable of dealing with dangerous ruins. Now if Steve had come down to the lower levels by himself, he wouldn't have gotten past the first room. But he couldn't let what had just happened pass without comment. “What made you fall like that?”

“I found a pair of Dwemer flying boots. Unfortunately, they work about as well as you saw. I'd do better just enchanting another pair myself. Nothing out of the ordinary here aside from that find.”

Steve wouldn't have been able to resist trying out a pair of flying boots, either. But being able to make them himself? “So you're the head of the Imperial Legion, a master battlemage and smith, and an enchanter. Anything else you're good at?” Steve remembered rumors of Tarth's sexual prowess floating around the Imperial City.

Tarth eyed him, probably able to tell what he was thinking about, and started leading them towards the exit. “I'm a better smith than I am an enchanter. And I was born into Great House Hlaalu, but I abdicated after my mother died. I'm not interested in getting involved with Great House politics.”

On the way, Steve collected another inventory load of Dwemer artifacts to sell in town, and then killed a huge flying lizard bird thing that attacked them on the bridge outside. Apparently it was called a cliff racer and Steve could count on making the acquaintance of its several million friends if he continued venturing outside the cities. Tarth accompanied Steve to the trader's, then treated him to nix-hound steak with scuttle at the Eight Plates cornerclub. It actually didn't taste bad.

“Is there any food on this island that didn't come from insects?”

“Besides the plants? Just rat meat.”

Steve was happy he had never been quite that desperate in the Imperial City, and he wasn't that desperate now, either.

After dinner, they returned to Tarth's house, and Steve explained about the favor he needed to do in order to obtain an informant's cooperation. Tarth easily granted permission to take the cube. Then he asked Steve if he wanted to share his bed, or if he'd rather sleep in the guest bed.

***

Athonis had noticed, once Steve relaxed around him, that Steve regarded him as a subject of desire, but didn't seem eager to make that interest known to him. Well, Athonis was willing to assuage any curiosity about his ability to please a human male that might still be lingering in Steve's mind. He'd gained quite a reputation in the Imperial City before he'd left, which he took advantage of as suited him. He'd already given Steve what he'd returned for, so it should be clear that sex was not being exchanged for goods or services, just an offer of sharing between two equals. And he'd fed him dinner, which satisfied human tradition for an assignation.

Steve was blushing, but willing, so Athonis took him to bed and told him to call Athonis by his first name from now on. Athonis was not the first lover Steve had had, but he was the most skilled. Once the extent of his mastery became clear, Steve placed his body entirely in Athonis' hands, and was well-rewarded for his surrender. After, they slept. Their dreams were not sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:  
> Lt. Pelagia "Peggia" Carteria - Agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter  
> Sgt. Janus Barius - Sgt. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes
> 
> Since the Legion rank names change with every game, I've taken the liberty of using ranks most people are familiar with instead, especially at the lower levels.
> 
> Books:  
> [For my Gods and Emperor](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:For_my_Gods_and_Emperor)


	4. War of the First Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams of a past life and a present foe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: non-graphic death in a past life, Nerevar angsting, Civil War feels

_Finally, Nerevar, angered that his friend Dumac would lie to him, went back to Vvardenfell. This time the Chimer King was arrayed in arms and armor and had his hosts around him, and he spoke harshly to Dumac Dwarf-Orc, King of Red Mountain. "You must give up your worship of the Heart of Lorkhan or I shall forget our friendship and the deeds that were accomplished in its name!" And Dumac, who still knew nothing of Kagrenac's New God, but proud and protective as ever of his people, said, "We shall not relinquish that which has been our way for years beyond reckoning, just as the Chimer will not relinquish their ties to the Lords and Ladies of Oblivion. And to come at my door in this way, arrayed in arms and armor and with your hosts around you, tells me you have already forgotten our friendship. Stand down, my sweet Nerevar, or I swear by the fifteen-and-one golden tones I shall kill you and all your people."_  
 _And so the Chimer and Dwemer went to war._  
-Nerevar at Red Mountain

 

Dumac's betrayal hurt. Nerevar had been betrayed before, but never before by one he'd trusted so dearly, one with whom he'd worked alongside so hard for so long, at what had seemed an impossible task, at what his queen and advisers had told him was an impossible task. And yet, they had been managing until this.

He could not believe that Dumac could have been lying every time he professed a desire for peace between the Dwemer and the Chimer. True, Nerevar could tell that he thought the peace as likely to last as Red Mountain was to stay dormant for the rest of the era, but he had been willing to try for the sake of love and friendship.

But now Nerevar finally saw that there could be no peace with the Dwemer, who would not cease their blasphemies even when they threaten all the mortal plane. And Dumac would not abandon his people and their ways, not even for his Nerevar. There was only one way this could end.

Nerevar stood in the halls of the great Dwemer citadel within the caldera of Red Mountain. He was bleeding from many wounds and felt potent curses sapping his strength. Soon he would be able to stand no more. First, though, he would finish this. For the Chimer, and the gods, and the world.

Dumac faced him, body broken, unable to stand, but still proud. Always proud. “Finish it, Nerevar.”

Nerevar did. And then he could stand no more.

***

Steve awoke, unsure who he was until he recognized Athonis, alive and as affectionate with his bed partner in sleep as he was awake. He was glad that his desires lined up so well with his benefactor's, and that the rumors were not greatly exaggerated. Steve hoped Athonis intended to keep him around for a while. With more experience working together, maybe they could forge a great partnership. Tucking his head against the Dunmer, Steve let the warmth and even breathing soothe him back to sleep. His dreams this time were filled with ominous bells and a menacing figure in a golden mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No two versions of what happened at the Battle of Red Mountain agree.
> 
> Books:  
> [War of the First Council](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:The_War_of_the_First_Council) \- a short version  
> [Nerevar at Red Mountain](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Nerevar_at_Red_Mountain) \- a long version, for maximum feels


	5. Sleepers Awake!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, skeleton property rights, and dreams of the time before death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A past-life Bruce Banner appears in the dream sequence. I'm leaving off adding him to the tags until his current incarnation appears.
> 
> Warnings: discussion of Molag Bal (aka the King of Rape)/Vivec and institutional homophobia, fantastic racism, Nerevar angst, curse biology
> 
> I'm going to stop warning for the giant insect transportation service and judgemental attitudes, since they happen almost every chapter.

_Vivec hunted down the biters one by one, and all their progeny, and he killed them all by means of the Nine Apertures, and the wise still hide theirs from Muatra._  
-36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 14

When they woke curled together before dawn the next morning, Athonis reminded Steve that the practice of piercing the Second Aperture was forbidden by the Tribunal Temple, so he'd appreciate it if Steve didn't brag about playing Vivec to Athonis' Molag Bal.

“I don't understand that reference.”

Athonis happened to have a copy of the relevant Lesson of Vivec handy, having started a collection of horrifying local pillow books. He watched in amusement as Steve's eyes got bigger and bigger as he read. “Okay, now I understand the reference, but I don't think that was an appropriate metaphor. You didn't rape me, or cut off my feet, and I'm not going to give birth to monsters because of it. Is that really the justification they used? It's Molag Bal the Corrupter, of course something horrible was going to happen.”

“I'm not sure about the reasoning. Might be that good Dunmer are supposed to have children to strengthen their clan and House, and normally there aren't any offspring produced by that position. Maybe Vivec wants people to have to sneak around, since his Anticipation is the daedric prince of sex and secrets. I tend to avoid drawing Temple attention when I can.”

Steve was not awake enough for this conversation. “It's hard to imagine you avoiding attention.”

“When it's the attention of boring people, I can make an effort.”

“Mm. Am I boring you?”

“No.” Actually, the humans Athonis wanted to keep usually grew bored with him first. After the first couple decades of bed games, he had developed a better idea of the kind of person he wanted, and grew more selective, as maturing Dunmer tended to do. His promiscuous reputation was well-established by then. And yes, he had mated with both sexes of all ten races. Why not?

He'd learned that non-elves should be enjoyed as frequently as possible, since their lives were so short, and the portion of those lives that they were willing to share with Athonis was even shorter. He was still getting to know this human, but so far all the surprises and discoveries had been pleasant.

“Well,” Steve said, adopting a demure expression at odds with his wandering hands, “if I have your attention... I'd appreciate it... if you'd make me forget what I just read.”

Very pleasant. Athonis was happy to grant that request, as often as he was invited.

***

After making a more pleasant memory, Steve slept through Athonis leaving, but woke up for breakfast. Porridge this time, made from local grains. Steve was careful and checked the temperature before eating. The taste was different, but it was just as filling as porridge in the Imperial City.

Thanks to Athonis' generosity and skill, which Steve hoped to be on the receiving end of again soon, Steve's body was suffused with well-being, but his dreams were troubling. To distract himself, he asked what Athonis planned to do next.

“The caravaners are saying there's a serial killer in Vivec targeting foreigners. Figured I'd check in at Ebonheart, then look into that. Be back in a couple days.”

That was probably good for Steve's productivity. “See you then?”

“Sure thing, gorgeous,” Athonis leered, then handed him a key. “Feel free to keep my bed warm even if I'm not around to share it.”

Steve blushed, finished his breakfast, and left before he could suggest a longer stay in bed. Who knows how long a mer would indulge a human's enthusiasm?

He brought the Dwemer cube to the informant at the Fighters Guild, and received a prepared sheaf of notes. That was thoughtful of him. Or maybe he just noticed how long Steve had taken to write down the details of his 'favor' in his journal. Despite the thoughtfulness, the notes only covered one of the two cults Caius Cosades was interested in: the so-called Sixth House, which used to be one of the Dunmer Great Houses but was destroyed after the War of the First Council for treason, which seemed like overkill to Steve. Maybe he could ask Athonis later.

Being granted a key implied that last night was only the first of many sharings. Steve wondered if Athonis had other houses in other towns, and other lovers to warm those beds, but cut off that line of thought quickly. He and Athonis had made no agreements, so any other lovers Athonis had weren't his business.

Steve took the notes back to his patron. Surprisingly, Caius the sugartooth Spymaster had some concern about the company Steve had been keeping.

“Good work on establishing the cover identity, working for the Imperial Cult, but a little bug told me you've also been spending time with Athonis Tarth. You know that working for him won't earn you any points with House Hlaalu, right?”

“I know he's not interested in house politics. I wasn't trying to gain Hlaalu favor, and so far it's been more him helping me than me helping him.”

“Really. I suppose it makes sense he'd take a shine to you, given his mixed blood. Even in House Hlaalu, the most imperial-friendly house, most Dunmer would rather drop dead than mix their blood with an inferior race. Which is any other race. Mixed-blood children are considered to be pollution in the Dunmer gene pool. These days they aren't ostracized, but associating with Athonis is not going to do you any good with traditional Dunmer, Steve.”

Steve seethed, but managed to finish the conversation politely. “Thanks for the information, Spymaster. May I have my next assignment, now?”

The man who lives in a sugar-den felt the need to warn Steve that polite society would look down on him for keeping company with law-abiding citizens because of their ancestry. Steve had been looked down on by polite society all his life, and he wasn't about to let a bunch of silk-clad fops with more wealth than usefulness dictate who he associated with. Athonis was right: Steve should stay away from the 'Great' Houses. He stopped outside Caius' house to take a few deep breaths and calm down. Caius was just letting him know about local attitudes and how his actions would be viewed. Just because he was the one who told Steve, didn't mean he personally held those attitudes. At least Steve had already thanked him out of habitual politeness.

After a few deep breaths, Steve was able to actually process what he'd just learned. Athonis's mother must have been a Dunmer, since Athonis had the bluish skin and red eyes of that race, but according to Caius his father was... not. Possibly human, since Caius implied Athonis' parentage influenced his attitude towards Steve. Steve added the question of paternal race to the list of things he wanted to know about Athonis but weren't actually his business.

His next assignment was another information gathering task with associated favor. Steve was starting to get a sense of what this job was like, and appreciated Athonis' insistence on looting. It was nice to have a source of income that wasn't directly tied to his patron.

The second informant was an Orc mage. Steve had not known any Orcs were mages. In return for information on the second secret cult, she wanted Steve to rob a tomb near Pelagiad. Despite being grumpy about the interruption to her research, the Orc also provided some assistance, in the form of magical scrolls and weapons, which was more than the informant at the Fighters Guild had. Steve carefully wrote down the directions, and then headed down the road. Philosophically he had an objection to tomb raiding, and he was pretty sure the Orc was practicing necromancy on the sly, but the emperor had ordered him to follow Caius Cosades' orders, and Cosades had an agreement with the Orc, so tomb raiding it was.

Steve had briefly stopped in Pelagiad several days ago on the way to Ebonheart, and he enjoyed the chance to make the trip again. After leaving the barren landscape of the volcanic canyon, which the natives called a 'foyada' or 'fire river' in reference to the lava flow that formed that type of geographical feature, to the southeast of Fort Moonmoth, the road south went through some of the prettiest country he'd seen in this province. The hills were green and covered with colorful flowers, there were barely any wild animals, and even the highwaymen were polite.

Sadly, the highwayman Steve had encountered was not polite enough to take no for an answer, and so Steve had been forced to defend himself. The highwayman's armor had been nice, and a good fit for Steve; his shirt, even nicer, but unavoidably stained with blood by the time Steve was able to examine it. A pity, but such is the fate of the shirt of Nels Llendo.

***

Hours later, Steve limped into Pelagiad, respect for tombs gone and praising Stendarr for all the blows his shield had taken. There was something about being attacked by skeletons that made him more comfortable taking things from the tomb they were guarding, like he'd earned it by right of conquest. He had managed to neutralize the tomb guardians, but they had almost managed to neutralize him. Steve had cast his basic healing spell until he exhausted his own small magical reserves, but moving was still an exercise in willpower. Fortunately there was a legion fort in Pelagiad with Imperial Cult healers and an altar he could pray at.

In the Imperial City, Steve had usually been too sick, too busy trying to earn a living, or too tired from being so busy to pray in a chapel regularly. In Morrowind, his time was mostly his own, and the small shrines to the Divines were like pieces of home he didn't want to let go. Even though here he'd found new friends and more physical comfort than he'd ever had at home, he still felt like he didn't belong.

As Steve passed a house along the street running through the town of Pelagiad to the fort proper, a Dunmer with a vacant look in his eyes cried out, “The Sixth House is risen, and Lord Dagoth is its glory!” He didn't elaborate or attack after making this proclamation, so Steve warily continued on his way. The guards seemed to be paying the mer no mind. Steve was satisfied now that there was a Sixth House cult, and that they were crazy, but wasn't sure what to do about it yet.

After obtaining healing, Steve paid his respects to the Nine. _Akatosh, grant me the endurance to bear the challenges ahead. Dibella, thank you for the joy I found with Athonis. Arkay, thank you for healing. Zenithar, thank you for mercenary friends. Mara, thank you for granting me comfort. Kynareth, please protect me from beasts of the air. Julianos, help me choose wisely. Talos, please let your agents be on the side of good. Stendarr, thank you for your mercy, and please continue to bless my shield arm and watch over Janus and Peggia._

Now that the tomb was unguarded, Steve made a few trips between the tomb and the local tradespeople, avoiding the crazy mer as much as possible, and then walked back to Balmora in the night. The sky was clear and the stars and both moons were beautiful.

The Mages Guild informant was still awake when he got to the city. Actually, most people were awake – bad dreams were going around. Steve traded the requested item from the tomb for the information Cosades wanted, glad to no longer be carrying around a skull in his inventory. According to the notes the Orc had prepared, the Nerevarine cult believed Nerevar, a great hero from Dunmer history, would be reincarnated and fulfill his ancient promises to the Ashlanders, tribal Dunmer that had been displaced by the settled House Dunmer. The cult was persecuted by the local religious authorities, and the legion didn't interfere because the cult was anti-foreigner.

Steve delivered the notes to Cosades and received his next assignment, written down this time. He was going to Vivec to talk to three informants. They probably would all want favors too. Steve decided to grant Athonis' oh-so-delicate request earlier and sleep in his bed while he was away. It was larger and more comfortable than the spare bed. Really, he needed all the help to sleep well that he could get.

***

Nerevar lay next to Dumac's body for a short time before it vanished, leaving his weapons and armor behind. While Nerevar tried to make sense of that, the head of House Dagoth emerged from deeper inside the Dwemer fortress.

“Nerevar! Kagrenac tried to use the power of the Heart, and he was destroyed, but the tools he used were left behind. ...Is that Dumac's armor? What happened?”

Nerevar whispered, “He died, and then his body vanished a few minutes ago. Kagrenac's tools were left behind?”

“Yes.”

“Keep them safe. I... I need to speak to my tribunal. Will you keep the tools safe for me?”

“Of course, my lord. I will guard them with my life.” Lord Dagoth called for litter-carriers and then withdrew to the chamber the Dwemer had kept the heart of a god in.

Ashlander tribesmer carried Nerevar on a litter to a smaller fortress his alliance was using as a headquarters, and couriers were sent running to summon his three closest advisers and generals. Healers cast spells and gave him potions to drink, but though his wounds closed, his strength did not return. The healers called for a curse-breaker. Nerevar rested, focusing on surviving until he could discuss Kagrenac's tools with the three he trusted most in this world. He no longer trusted his own judgment after his failure with Dumac.

A Chimer in House Telvanni robes approached and greeted Nerevar. Barus Banar was an expert in curses, and Nerevar had introduced him to Dumac. They had collaborated on a few projects, and Nerevar somehow would not be surprised that the curse stymieing the healers was one of theirs. Banar cast a few detection spells before confirming Nerevar's suspicions.

“We called it the Curse of the Faithless Friend,” Banar said, only a little embarrassed. “It slowly rots the victim's heart, which causes weakness and eventual death. The damage can be healed, but always returns, even if the entire organ is replaced, if that were possible. The curse is rooted in the cracks in the victim's honor. We did design it with a simple cure, of course, but if Dumac is dead, then...”

“What was the cure?” Nerevar whispered. Dumac was very thorough in all his endeavors, and Nerevar wanted to be able to appreciate the genius of this last project of his.

“The forgiveness of the friend you wronged,” Banar answered quietly. “Take comfort in that this version of the curse does not pass to other friends, kin, or descendants, and ends once your soul leaves your body.” He covered Nerevar's ring hand with his own, and continued, “I wish I could help you. I'm sorry.”

“Dumac said he would kill me and all my people. Every other mortal warrior who went with me to deliver my ultimatum is dead, and every immortal wounded badly enough to leave the field, but we stopped the Dwemer from destroying the world, so those deaths were not in vain. I would be proud to join them once I've spoken with my tribunal.”

“We are here, my lord,” said Vivec, his youngest adviser. Banar withdrew and let Vivec, Nerevar's queen and chief general Almalexia, and Nerevar's oldest advisor Sotha Sil gather around the bedside. “The Dwemer have vanished, though their devices remain. Do you know what happened?”

“I didn't see what happened. Lord Dagoth told me he found High Craftlord Kagrenac in the Heart chamber with some tools, and when he used them on the Heart, he vanished. At around the same time, Dumac's body vanished from his armor. I asked Dagoth to guard the tools until I could come speak with you. If they can be used to make an entire race disappear, we cannot have them falling into the wrong hands. It may be better if they are never used again.”

Nerevar felt himself weakening further. “Before I die, I want the three of you to swear in the name of Azura that you will not use the tools. We have all sacrificed friends and kin so that the power of the Heart would not be abused by the Dwemer. Do not let that sacrifice be in vain.” Nerevar saw his advisers trading glances as the edges of his vision darkened. “If you love me, swear in the name of Azura that you will not use the tools.”

“In the name of Azura, I swear never to use Kagrenac's Tools,” said Vivec, taking one of Nerevar's hands.

Almalexia repeated the oath, kissing Nerevar's forehead and covering Vivec's hand on Nerevar's with hers.

Sotha Sil repeated the oath, and took Nerevar's other hand. “Rest in peace, my friend. We will keep the Chimer united and strong. Watch over us once you are an ancestor.”

As Nerevar lost consciousness for the last time in his life, he hoped he hadn't made a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:  
> Barus Banar - Dr. Bruce Banner (first era). He has another name in his current incarnation.
> 
> Also, in case I don't get around to mentioning this later:  
> Ihowaris Tarth - Howard Stark (genderswapped)  
> Mario Carbonellius - Maria Carbonell (genderswapped)  
> Athonis' parents were married at the time of his birth, but his surname is Tarth because Ihowaris was of higher rank than Mario.
> 
> Absolutely nothing in the 36 Lessons of Vivec can be taken literally.
> 
> Books:  
> [36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 14](http://uesp.net/wiki/Lore:36_Lessons_of_Vivec,_Sermon_14) \- It's even weirder than it sounds in the chapter. You have been warned.  
> [Hasphat's notes for Cosades](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Hasphat%27s_notes_for_Cosades)  
> [Nerevarine cult notes](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Nerevarine_cult_notes)
> 
> In case you have never had the pleasure of meeting Nels Llendo, this is what he says before he attacks male characters who refuse to give him 50 gold:
> 
> "I fear you are making an unwise decision, my friend. But, so be it...though I hate to soil my clothes with your blood. No matter. Such is the life of Nels Llendo."


	6. Mission to Vivec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve practices breathing, and even people with Chimer attitudes get lost their first time in Vivec City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha “Black Widow” Romanov is named but does not appear yet.
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.
> 
> Warnings: identity crisis freakout, fantastic racism, an infestation of parentheses

_The citizenry of Vivec screamed as they saw a shooting star come down out of the sky hole like a toll-road of hell. But Vivec merely raised his hand and froze Lie Rock just above the city and then he pierced the monster with Muatra._  
 _(The practice of piercing the Second Aperture is now forbidden.)_  
 _When Nerevar returned, he saw the frozen comet above his lord's city. He asked whether or not Vivec wanted it removed._  
 _'I would have done so myself if I wanted, silly Hortator. I shall keep it there with its last intention intact, so that if the love of the people of this city for me ever disappear, so shall the power that holds back their destruction.'_  
 _Nerevar said, 'Love is under your will only.'_  
 _Vivec smiled and told the Hortator that he had become a Minister of Truth._  
-36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 33

 

Steve woke and wondered if he was going mad. He was not a mer – an elf! He was not an elf, and that was a perfectly fine word for humans to use to refer to mer. And even if he was an elf, he would not be a legendary Dunmer hero. He was parent-less, and he would never be one of the heroes whose deeds were recorded in Azura's Book of Fate... which he did not know anything about, because he was a human who worshipped the Aedra – the Divines! Yes, he was going mad. There was surely a shrine to the Daedric Prince of Madness on Vvardenfell... Steve waited for his mind to correct itself with a different word for that, too. A new word did not come, but he did remember that 'Vvardenfell' was Dwemeri for 'City of the Strong Shield'.

He needed to calm down and remember who he was before he started attacking tentacle-festooned flying brains with a dessert fork. He knew where he could find the brains, too – there were several ranches north of Vivec with tame herds of them. Steve wasn't sure whether they were insects or not.

Deep breaths, slowly.

All right. His name was Steve, and he had no last name or parents. He was raised in the Temple of Stendarr in the Imperial City. His best friends were Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec-

Breathe.

His best friends were Janus Barius and Pelagia Carteria, both currently serving in the Imperial Legion.

He was shield-companion to-

Slow, deep breaths.

He was an initiate in the Order of the Blades, pursuing information on suspicious activity of interest to the empire. He was a lay servant in the Imperial Cult, collecting alchemical ingredients and charitable donations to further the Cult's good works. And sometimes track down bowls taken by light-fingered Altmer.

He was the shield-companion-

He was an associate of the head of the Imperial Legion-

He didn't know who he was, but he had information to gather. Slow, deep breaths. Get dressed, and find something to eat. Then go to Vivec. The city of Vivec, not the person. The Vivec in his dream did not look crazy enough to have written that book Athonis had shown him yesterday.

Steve rummaged through the storage containers near Athonis' eating area and then realized that even though he had seen most of these things used for food, he did not know how to cook with them. Or did he? Steve followed the impulse from his gut... and put some scuttle between two pieces of bread. That would work. He would need to look into learning some Dunmer recipies later. Athonis wasn't always going to be around to feed him, and eating nothing but travel food was not healthy.

After eating his improvised breakfast, Steve locked Athonis' door behind him and crossed the southernmost footbridge over the river, headed toward the silt strider port. A Dunmer with a vacant look in his eyes started screaming at him as he approached the other side. “N'wah dog! Flee this land before Lord Dagoth feeds the earth with your blood!”

Steve stopped on the bridge, reaching for his sword, but two guards rushed over and dragged the mer off, still ranting, toward the Balmora Temple. Steve hoped they could help him. Two screaming madmer in two days seemed like more than the usual tithe claimed by the Prince of Madness.

Onboard the silt strider walking to Vivec, Steve attempted to reach the state of restful awareness that allowed a warrior to rejuvenate himself without unduly lowering his guard, but something about his body seemed wrong. Steve's eyes flew open. He'd never learned to meditate.

Deep breaths.

At first glance, Vivec was huge, massive levels built with brown clay, supported by great arches and crowned with a giant dome, adorned with tapestries each taller than three men. Then Steve walked half-way around the bottom walkway and realized that what he'd thought was the city was just one unit out of many. And he had to find three people in it.

“Keep moving, scum,” snapped a guard in – House Indoril, his house, not an elf! - black and gold armor. The guard's helmet was a full-face mask, in the shape of a creepily life-like face, with a large golden plume curled around the helmet from the back of the neck to above and in front of the face-mask. Steve bristled at the insult but started moving again. In the legion, civility was considered a virtue. Clearly, not the case here.

Steve wound up asking a Dunmer with a large straw hat standing next to a wooden platform for directions. The Dunmer operated a gondola that transported passengers between the city's cantons, and for a few coins he was willing to explain where St. Olms and the Temple cantons were, and where the Black Shalk Cornerclub was in this canton. Steve thanked him and went in search of the cornerclub to meet the first informant. When he found it, after only getting lost twice, he realized that if the picture was accurate, shalks were insects. Instead of finding that as disturbing as usual, Steve found himself contemplating whether there was good eating inside that fat exoskeleton.

Fortunately for Steve's sanity, there were no live insects inside. Unfortunately, the informant he was there to meet was in trouble with a group of thugs, and needed Steve's help to get out of it. Being an Imperial born under the sign of the Lady meant that when he exerted himself, Steve could almost always convince people to do the right thing: in this case, letting the Argonian assassin leave without trying to kill him. Steve was unable to convince the Dunmer toughs that they shouldn't call Argonians lizards, though, so he did have limits.

The assassin was the first person Steve had met since arriving in Morrowind who'd tried to avoid bloodshed. Steve knew guards who took their honor less seriously. (It was good to see the codes of the Morag Tong being upheld.) He didn't understand how someone so principled could be an assassin, but it seemed rude to ask, under the circumstances. (Murder is a sacred act, assassination is a holy calling.)

Once they were in a secure location, which Steve would describe as 'a bookstore', the informant provided Steve with another sheaf of notes on the Nerevarine cult. The notes provided more details on the nomadic vs. settled Dunmer conflict, but the only interesting new piece of information was that a series of people had claimed to be the Nerevarine, and then failed to fulfill the prophecies. However, the cultists saw this as proof that the Nerevarine would one day come, and claimed there was a cavern where all the 'Failed Incarnates' wait for the true Incarnate to arrive. Reading that sent a chill up Steve's spine. (You will come again, and again, and again...)

Steve decided to walk to St. Olms so he could appreciate the architecture, and the sunlight. Also, it was easier not to get lost. Athonis found him along the lowest walkway around the Arena canton. Steve was simultaneously hit with the impulse to hug him and the need to maintain combat readiness in an open area. Frozen with indecision, the impulse to hug faded, and the need to keep his hands free increased. Would he normally want to hug Athonis in public?

As was becoming a habit, Athonis broke into Steve's thoughts. “Here on business, too? The serial killer's been taken care of, by the way. She was using this.” Athonis held up a dagger. Steve could sense the strength of the enchantment it carried even without touching it. “The Office of the Watch was offering a reward, but you could use this more than me.” Athonis put the dagger away and handed Steve an enchanted belt.

Steve wondered if Athonis would always be randomly giving him expensive gifts. He'd think it had something to do with sleeping with him, but the behavior had started almost as soon as they'd met. And he wasn't wrong when he'd thought Steve would get more use out of it. (He is powerful, and values your association. Keep him close.) “Thank you. Yes, I'm looking for someone in St. Olms, but if you want to talk, maybe we should find somewhere to do it where the guards aren't giving us dirty looks.” With their creepy, creepy masks. Steve itched to give them a lecture on proper decorum and representing the best virtues of Indoril, but being imprisoned would slow him down unacceptably.

The last time he had lectured a guard, he had been sent here to eat insects and go insane. In admittedly pleasant company.

Athonis chuckled. “That would be the sewers. But the canalworks level above that usually has fewer dirty looks, and is safer than the sewers, so let's head there.”

On their way into St. Olms, they met an Imperial asking if they'd seen Steve's prospective informant. Steve and Athonis both told him no truthfully, and they made their way past the brewers, fishmongers, tailors, dyers, and tanners down to the canalworks. After finding a quiet corner away from cremation pits, guards, and skooma addicts, Steve explained his mission and his current progress.

“That Khajiit is pretty popular with Imperials today,” Athonis observed once he'd been briefed. “The one we met coming in seems shifty to me, like he'd as soon bury you in paperwork as look at you.”

“So I have to find Addhiranirr when she's trying not to be found, even though that guy doesn't seem to be making much of an effort to actually find her.”

“He's up on the working class level, and we came down to the level of the grieving, dead, and destitute to find privacy. The lady is probably around here somewhere.”

“Or we could ask around.” Steve was an Imperial as well, but he knew how to talk to people who didn't wear fancy clothes.

“You do that, and I'll explore. We'll see who finds her first.”

Not wanting to separate too far, Athonis kept his exploring confined to the canalworks, and Steve restricted his conversations to the few people visiting the cremation pits, which looked just like the ones in the tomb he'd pacified yesterday. There was a Khajiit skooma addict curled up in a dark corner, but he was having an intense conversation with himself and Steve felt it best not to interrupt. None of the people willing to talk had any better directions than 'she's hiding from the Census and Excise agent'. Athonis' search was also fruitless.

They reconvened at one of the many hatchways set into the floor at intervals. “Next we check the sewer. Stay close to me. If we're lucky, we'll just find rats, but sometimes daedric cults move in down here. That serial killer was hiding in the sewer, too, and she was skilled enough to kill a Vivec guard with that dagger.”

Steve was feeling more confident about his combat skills, but not confident enough to go up against Daedra worshippers and people who could kill guards. “Rats are for me, cultists are for you. Got it.” He half-drew his sword, then re-sheathed it once the hatch Athonis opened revealed they'd need to climb down a ladder. It looked slimy. He was glad he was wearing gauntlets, even if they were made out of bugs. (There's nothing strange about wearing the outer form of the things you kill and eat.)

Nothing attacked before Athonis reached the bottom, so he called up to Steve to close the hatch when he came down to avoid making it too obvious someone was down here. Steve didn't like it, but it did make sense.

The sewers smelled as bad here as they did in the Imperial City. From what he could see, there was a canal that probably ran the length of the canton, crossed by a couple small footbridges, with a roomy tunnel leading away from the canal. There were also plenty of rat droppings. Steve couldn't see any rats in the immediate vicinity, but he could hear squeaking in the distance. Aside from himself and Athonis, there was no one in sight. Without needing to say a word, Steve picked a direction and Athonis followed.

Soon enough, they found some rats, which Steve was more than capable of handling. Athonis took the opportunity to quiz Steve about his emergency preparedness.

“Do you have any potions for disease?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Synnolian Tunifus at the Imperial Chapels has been giving me potions when I collect ingredients for him.”

“Common disease or blight disease?”

“One for blight, a few for common.” (Don't snap at him for being condescending. He means well.) “I also have a couple poison and paralysis cures. How does that work, anyway? If you're paralyzed, you can't take anything out of your inventory.”

“You've never...? Okay, take this potion. It restores movement energy, I have plenty. Now put it in your inventory.” Athonis waited for the potion to disappear into Steve's inventory. “Now, absorb the potion directly from your inventory.”

Steve did so. His movement energy was at its maximum already, but he could feel the magic that had been stored in the potion trying to revitalize him anyway. The liquid itself, and the bottle that had contained it, had vanished. “That makes no sense.”

“It is what it is. Alchemists get the bottles for potions from nowhere, too. It's theorized that they get them from some inventory space that doesn't belong to anyone, but everyone can access.”

“That doesn't make sense either,” Steve insisted. He had enough trouble trying to keep his own thoughts straight without tackling philosophical questions. (Philosophers could be quite fun, though.) Case in point. “Was there a reason you're asking me about potions?”

“Rats carry disease. So do other animals and monsters. I wanted to make sure you were prepared.”

“That's sweet of you.” Steve started moving forward again, and Athonis followed.

At what Steve guessed to be the half-way point of the canal, there was a gap in the walkway. Steve did not want to swim in that. Was that a dead body down there? (Looks like he swam with the slaughterfish.)

“Do you have any water-walking potions?” Athonis asked him. Steve shook his head. Athonis stepped up to the edge of the walkway and offered his arm to Steve. “Stand on my boot and hold onto me. I'll carry you across.”

At least Athonis didn't expect Steve to be carried like an invalid or a helpless prisoner. And besides, there was nobody down here to see except the rats, and Steve would kill them all to keep them from talking. Stepping onto Athonis' metal boot with one of his, Steve wrapped one arm around Athonis' armored shoulders, holding onto his pauldron. Athonis wrapped one arm around Steve's waist, and cast a spell with the other hand. When he stepped onto the water carrying both his and Steve's weight, the surface of the water dipped a little, then stabilized. Athonis waited until he was sure of his balance, then carefully walked forward a few steps until they reached the other walkway, feet still dry.

Steve let go, feeling like a noble heiress, and thanked him for the lift. “Any time,” Athonis said. Steve would have like to see his expression, but it was hidden inside his metal helmet. Of course, Steve was still wearing his chitin helmet, so he had no room to complain. (You don't look like a bug with vision problems, you look like a bug with stylish and practical eye-wear.)

Two dead rats later, and they found a Khajiit. “Khajiit has not seen such an adorable display since she looked after her cousin's kits,” she snickered. Steve blushed under his helmet. Khajiit could see better in the dark than any other race. She'd seen the whole thing. But really he had no reason to be embarrassed. It was a perfectly practical method of crossing a gap in a path.

“Good day, ma'am,” Steve greeted her, hoping if he moved past the subject, she would forget about it. “My name is Steve, and I am a friend of Caius Cosades. I'm looking for a friend of his named Addhiranirr.” Hopefully he'd found her, and he could get out of the sewers quickly. It must be worse for Khajiit, since their noses were so much bigger. He didn't know how she could stand it down here.

“Great. So Caius says to you, 'Speak with Addhiranirr.' And you have done this thing. You are speaking with Addhiranirr. But Addhiranirr will not talk to you about the Nerevarine or the Sixth House cult, and because why? Because Addhiranirr is, at this moment, very distracted by a nice Census and Excise agent, who also wants to speak with her.” Steve could see where this was going. “For several reasons, a Census and Excise agent is not Addhiranirr's favorite person. If you want Addhiranirr to help you, make the bad agent go away. Then she will tell you things.”

“Do you know who my friend is?” Steve indicated Athonis, a member of the Imperial Legion standing right there as Steve was asked to assist in tax evasion.

The Khajiit blinked at Steve. “You are the one who brought your friend here, on Caius' business. If you are concerned about him overhearing our business, perhaps you should have thought about that before bringing him along, yes? And as it happens, Addhiranirr does know the Dunmer, who is a friend of her friends. The Dunmer is a good Hlaalu, and understands that you need to take care of your friends instead of the empire, if you want to do good business.”

(We did just fine without any empire from Cyrodiil. I see no need to feed a beast that we have no use for.) Steve shook his head, trying to remove that thought. The empire kept the peace – that was the use of it. “Of course, ma'am. I'll see to it you aren't bothered. Athonis, I think I can handle this myself.”

Athonis nodded. There was another ladder up to another hatchway in the ceiling nearby, so Steve used it to exit the sewers instead of retracing his steps.

***

After Steve had closed the hatch from the other side, Athonis turned back to Addhiranirr. “Thank you for explaining that to him. He's new here, and still thinks he's in Temple lessons.”

“At least he is polite. Addhiranirr heard of your message to Rr'manarr. That was him? Addhiranirr wonders if you have an Imperial soul sometimes, you surround yourself with such things.”

“If he had fur and a tail, and proper ears, I think you'd start to get an idea of why. Humans are similar enough to mer that they can satisfy the same desires.”

“Addhiranirr is not a close friend of Athonis, so she will not be upset Athonis lies to her about something that is not her business.” Addhiranirr's tail curved in a Khajiit smile.

No, Athonis’ feelings about his associates were not her business. “That is very generous of you. Do you think you will be seeing Rr'manarr soon? I found something, and of my friends she might find the most use for it.”

“This one may be able to get something to her. Why not take it to our friend yourself?”

Because he wasn't sure Steve was ready to meet the head of the Thieves Guild on Vvardenfell. “You saw how he reacted. I don't quite trust him not to call the guards if he knows where to find a high-ranking member of your organization. Rr'manarr would be very displeased with me if certain parties found her because I shared a friend's secrets with someone untrustworthy.”

“This is true,” said the Khajiit thief. “Addhiranirr will take Athonis' present to Rr'manarr. Give it here.” Athonis passed over the enchanted dagger wielded by the serial killer. “Oh, this is wicked. It steals movement energy from your enemies? Yes, Addhiranirr can see how this could be useful against big, clumsy guards. Addhiranirr thanks you in Rr'manarr's name for this gift, Dunmer.”

“It was no trouble, friend.”

***

Steve was able to convince the tax agent to leave fairly easily. He walked past a tannery to mask the smell of the sewers, then persuaded the agent that he'd just seen a Khajiit taking a gondola to the mainland. The agent thanked him and seemed eager to leave a place where people actually worked for a living.

Steve made his way back down to the canalworks level, hoping he remembered which hatchway he'd come out of. The one Athonis was loitering next to seemed likely. “Mission accomplished?” Athonis asked.

“He jumped at the excuse to leave.”

Down in the sewers, Steve shared the good news with the Thieves Guild informant. “Great! Addhiranirr is very happy to tell a friend of my good friend Caius all about the Sixth House cult. And Addhiranirr knows nothing about the Nerevarine, but Addhiranirr is happy to tell you that, too, if it makes Caius happy.”

“Any information you could share would be helpful, ma'am,” Steve said. How can you tell someone nothing if you don't know anything?

“Addhiranirr knows nothing about this Nerevarine cult, because it is just silly superstition. So you tell Caius this. Nobody in her right mind pays any attention to this nonsense. Prophecies and ancient heroes reborn and other silliness. Fuzzy tales for little kitties.”

That was how. All right, then. “And what about the Sixth House?”

“This Addhiranirr knows about, because it is about smuggling. Some smart smugglers are suddenly too busy for their old clients, because they have a new employer, the Sixth House, who pays VERY well. But what do they smuggle now? Addhiranirr doesn't know, because they are very secret. And this is odd, because these smugglers are always loud and bragging, and now they hush up like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats.”

So there were some Sixth House cultists who weren't raving loons? That was news to Steve, and not good news.

“Thank you very much, ma'am. I'll be sure to tell Caius. Have a nice day.”

“May you walk on warm sands,” replied the Khajiit.

Steve and Athonis climbed back up to the canalworks. “What next?” Athonis asked.

“I've talked to two informants so far. The last one I'm supposed to meet in the Library of Vivec.”

“That's in the Temple canton, south of here.”

With Athonis leading, they managed to leave St. Olms canton by the south exit without getting lost. Steve stopped on the upper walkway to look south. And then up. “Is that...?”

“The Temple says that was a rogue moon that swore itself to eternal service after beholding Vivec's noble and daring countenance. But if you're asking if it's a huge chunk of rock, hanging over the city? Yes.”

That was the most impressive feat of divine power Steve had seen. No wonder most Dunmer mocked imperial faith in the Divines when all they had to do to see the power of their gods was just look up. On the other hand, what purpose did holding a canton-sized chunk of rock in the sky serve? “Is that safe?”

“The Temple's inquisition has their headquarters there: the 'Ministry of Truth'. It's been there for centuries, so... it's safe as long as Vivec wants it to be.”

Steve wasn't sure he trusted Vivec, but that was just paranoia and dreams. Dreams don't actually mean anything, even if you can't convince your own mind to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:  
> Thieves Guildmaster Rr'manarr - Natasha "Black Widow" Romanov
> 
> Books:  
> [Mission to Vivec -- from Caius](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Mission_to_Vivec_--_from_Caius)  
> [36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 33](http://uesp.net/wiki/Lore:36_Lessons_of_Vivec,_Sermon_33)  
> [Notes from Huleeya](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Notes_from_Huleeya)
> 
> Most of Addhiranirr's quest-related dialogue is copied from the game, because I couldn't think of a way to paraphrase and still preserve her speech patterns.
> 
> The tentacled flying brains are called [netch](http://uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Netch#Netch).


	7. Progress of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve buys a cookbook, sticks his foot in his mouth, and then things get weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: public ritual submission (not sexual), identity issues, use of questionable methods to resolve identity issues
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.

_Sources in the Apographa suggest that the Tribunal relied on profanely enchanted tools to achieve godhead, and that those unholy devices were the ones originally created by the ungodly Dwemer sorceror Kagrenac to create the False Construct Numidium._  
-Progress of Truth

 

Athonis waited for Steve to finish gawking at the giant rock floating above the Temple canton. His human had seemed a little off since he'd found him outside the Arena, and Athonis didn't want to let him out of his sight without giving him a thorough examination. And a lesson in taking care of his armor. Had he not repaired it since he'd acquired it?

“Steve,” he finally said. “Let's go. The moon isn't going anywhere anytime soon.”

“...Right. One more person to talk to. At the library. In the temple under that rock.” Steve shook his head and finally started moving.

The Halls of Wisdom and Justice were actually underneath the level of the temple proper. Above the door to the Hall of Wisdom was a larger than life statue of Vivec with upraised hands, as if he were sharing some inspirational words. Above the door to the Hall of Justice was a statue of the same mer using a spear to kill something with too many legs. Steve and Athonis used the Hall of Wisdom door.

Inside, the main hallway ran the length of the canton, but they weren't traveling that far. One of the entrances to the library was near the hall entrance. Steve needed to stop and stare again once through the library door. “Never seen this many books in one place before?” Athonis nudged him. Steve shook his head. Poor man. Most of these were copies of the same few books, anyway. “Who are we here to see?”

“Um. Her, I think,” Steve started towards a priestess with copper hair. The priestess saw Steve, and then her gaze found Athonis following behind him. An eyebrow arched.

Once Steve introduced himself as a friend of Caius Cosades, the priestess quietly told Steve to follow her somewhere they could talk privately. Athonis followed along, since the priestess hadn't objected out loud to his presence.

The priestess led them to a study alcove. She and Steve took seats at the small writing table, while Athonis leaned against the wall. “So,” said the priestess, still speaking quietly. “You are here to ask about the Sixth House cult and the Nerevarine cult?”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Steve.

“I don't know anything about the Sixth House cult, but I can tell you that the Temple persecutes the Nerevarine cult because the cult claims the Tribunal are false gods. A group called the Dissident Priests opposes this persecution, and has published a book called Progress of Truth in which they put forth their disagreements with the doctrine supported by the Temple hierarchy. Selling or possessing the book is banned by the Temple, but you should bring Caius a copy.”

“If these dissident priests oppose the persecution, why don't they do more than just publish banned books?” Steve asked.

“Anyone who disputes established Temple doctrine is arrested and imprisoned as a heretic. Under the terms of the armistice, the Empire cannot interfere. I am being watched by Ordinators as is, so I can't do very much without risking what freedom of movement I have.”

“I appreciate the risk you're taking to help us, ma'am. May I ask, do the Dissident Priests agree with the Nerevarine cult that the Tribunal are false gods?”

Mehra Milo frowned. “Not false, per se, but Temple doctrine claims the Tribunal were awarded their power by the ancestors and the daedra after proving themselves worthy through questing and pilgrimage. The Dissident Priests claim they achieved their power through dark sorcery, the same way that Dagoth Ur gained his power.”

“Who is Dagoth Ur, according to the Temple?”

“The Temple says Dagoth Ur is the source of all evil in Morrowind. The Ghostfence was erected to keep the blighted creatures that serve him contained in Red Mountain region, but that has proven... less effective in recent times. The Temple hierarchy claims that if we maintain our faith, Dagoth Ur cannot harm us. I... have doubts.”

Steve inched closer to the priestess. “Ma'am, this might be unrelated, but may I ask... I've heard that bad dreams are a sign of soul sickness, which is caused by sin and weak faith. Is that true?”

Mehra Milo sighed. “That is true, but it isn't unrelated. Soul sickness is caused by Dagoth Ur. Those strong in faith can resist by themselves, but if you are sinful or weak in faith you should seek counsel from the Temple. Fortunately, outlanders are not affected by the dreams Dagoth Ur sends, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Athonis saw Steve tense for a moment. They would definitely need to talk later. Steve quickly recovered, and said, “Thank you, ma'am. If there's nothing else, I'll let you get back to your duties.”

“Check booksellers for a copy of Progress of Truth. It is banned, but some shopkeepers ignore such things.” Mehra Milo rose regally to her feet. “Three blessings, seras.” With another look at Athonis, she left them there to walk back to the front of the library.

Athonis and Steve waited, not wanting to make it too obvious they had been talking to her. She seemed like a nice lady, for a priest, and Athonis didn't wish imprisonment on someone whose only crime was questioning the status quo.

“At least people viewing official bans on trade as optional can work in our favor this time,” Steve said. “If we can get back to the Foreign Quarter canton, I know where we can find a bookstore.” He paused, then admitted, “At least, I know the general area we can find one.”

Athonis hoped Steve wasn't talking about the bookstore that was a Thieves Guild front, but some conversations were best had outside a Temple library. Judging that they had waited long enough to not be suspicious, Athonis and Steve made their way back outside, only getting turned around once. “Do you feel like walking all the way back?” Athonis asked once they stood on the north side of the Temple canton. Two cantons away, they could see the Foreign Quarter banners, the immense sign of the imperial dragon flying in the breeze. Then it started raining.

“What do you suggest?” asked Steve. His armor didn't look like it was waterproof. Athonis had spent enough time on his own armor that he could swim in it without getting his shirt wet. It helped that his eyeslits were enchanted to keep the water out.

Athonis escorted Steve around to the west side of the canton, where the gondolier waited for business at the top of the scaffolding down to the gondola dock. A pleasant journey by canal later, they arrived at the Foreign Quarter. It was still raining, so they sprinted along the lower walkway until they reached the covered ramp leading up toward the entrance to the traders' level. “Can you teach me that spell to dry off?” Steve asked.

Athonis, like most people on Vvardenfell, didn't care about the Mages Guild's official monopoly on magical training. “Sure.” He explained how to invoke the magical forces necessary to convince concentrations of water on the caster's body that they needed to move elsewhere. Steve had to try casting it twice before he succeeded.

“Huh. It looked so simple, I didn't realize there was that much going on,” Steve said. Athonis was glad Steve didn't depend on magic to defend himself. The drying spell actually was simple, for a mage skilled in altering the natural forces. Steve's difficulty with it just demonstrated his lack of skill, but if he kept practicing, he'd soon have no trouble.

“So, what's the name of this bookstore we need to find?” Athonis asked.

“I think it's called - hang on let me check,” Steve produced his journal, which was waterproof, and flipped through the pages. “Ah. 'Jobasha's Rare Books'. That sounds promising.”

“Yes, it does.” That wasn't the Thieves Guild's bookstore, but Jobasha did ignore laws when it suited him. They were the laws most non-Dunmer, and even most non-native Dunmer, were eager to ignore – the ones protecting the property rights of slave owners. Jobasha was a Khajiit of principle, and also the owner of the bookstore in Morrowind most likely to have what you were looking for. He even had a few texts on necromancy. “This way.”

Several Ordinators grumbled at them as they walked past. Athonis refrained from commenting on the intelligence of someone who complained about the presence of outlanders in the Foreign Quarter. Yes, the Ordinators guarding Vivec were there because they weren't considered good enough to guard Mournhold, but that was no reason to take it out on people who had nothing to do with that selection process.

There was another guard inside the bookstore, but he seemed not to notice the purchase of a banned book. Outside the store, Athonis asked Steve where he needed to go next.

“I've finished everything I needed to do in Vivec, so now I just need to report in.”

“Good. Let's get dinner here first, and then go back to my place.”

“That reminds me,” said Steve, “I need to buy a cookbook.” He ducked back into the shop.

Athonis blinked behind his helmet. Why did Steve need a cookbook when Athonis was buying him dinner? More importantly, should he wait here, or follow Steve back into the bookstore? Deciding on the less-clingy course of action, Athonis leaned against the wall. After a few minutes, Steve emerged. “Can we go eat now?” Athonis asked.

“Sure,” Steve replied, like leaving Athonis alone to go buy a cookbook after being asked to dinner was a completely reasonable thing to do. Maybe it was. Athonis was not a good judge of these things.

“Since we're in the Foreign Quarter, you should try the fire resin saltrice at the Black Shalk. I think it's safe for humans.” Athonis led Steve down the corridor towards the cornerclub on the opposite side of the canton.

“You think it's safe.” Despite his completely warranted skepticism, Steve continued to follow Athonis. Athonis was going to count that as a win. “I was in the Black Shalk earlier today, and there were some unsavory types there. We might want to go somewhere else.”

“Unsavory how?” There were plenty of people who were perfectly nice as long as you didn't preach at them.

“The kind that call Argonians 'filthy lizards',” Steve explained with distaste. Athonis agreed generally with the assessment of 'unsavory', though he'd have been less polite about it.

“Don't worry about it. If they speak disrespectfully to us, I'll challenge them to an honor duel. If they actually have the guts to face me in the city's arena, I can get us immediate slots in the combatant schedule. We can have dinner in a couple hours.”

Steve sighed, confusing Athonis. Did he not care about teaching people to treat others with respect? “You know, the Argonian they were insulting was the first person I've met in Morrowind who wanted to avoid violence? Why is everyone so eager to kill each other?”

Why did Steve think he was in a position to judge Dunmer traditions? Granted, Athonis wasn't a native Dunmer, or even a pure-blood, but he knew his rights when it came to local dueling customs. “I've lived in Cyrodiil longer than you've been alive, Imperial. People are just as eager to kill you there, but in Morrowind they're more honest about it, and they usually don't catch your friends with poorly-aimed fireballs.”

Steve placed a hand on Athonis' arm, halting their progress across the canton. It soothed him slightly, as did Steve's explanation. “I'm not saying Cyrodiil is better than Morrowind, I just... can't people solve disputes without killing each other?”

“Short term? Sure. Long term, it always ends in bloodshed, and the longer it's put off, the worse it gets. Besides, there is a reason why they call Tamriel 'the Arena', and it's not because you can expect to live a peaceful life.” Personally, Athonis would like to be able to go about his life without worrying about being stabbed in the back, but he didn't have the power to change the nature of all the races of man, mer, and beastfolk, and that's what would need to happen to stop all fighting.

“That sounds like giving up to me.”

Athonis shook off Steve's hand. “Giving up,” he hissed, “is refusing to fight for what's yours. Don't stand there, wielding the sword I gave you, after sleeping in the bed I gave you, on the way to eat food I'll buy for you, and have the gall to insult my courage. I have killed for lesser slights.”

Stiffly, as if not sure why he was doing it, Steve knelt at Athonis' feet and removed his helmet, bowing his head and exposing the back of his neck. “Please... forgive this unworthy one, lord.” Athonis' anger turned to confusion. He didn't think anyone still used this submission ritual. “My tongue offers offense... I did not intend.” People were staring and whispering. Athonis wondered how Steve even knew what to do. “Accept my service... to mend our bond. My life belongs to you.” Steve looked up as much as he could while keeping the back of his neck exposed. His eyes were wide with terror.

Athonis reached down and firmly squeezed the back of Steve's neck, hoping he remembered the proper response. They were going to have a talk, and Steve was going to explain how he knew the Oath of Offender's Service. “Your service is acceptable. Train your tongue or lose it.” Okay, so he paraphrased. The meaning was the same.

Steve was shaking as he put his helmet back on and stood up. The impromptu audience drifted away. Athonis was sure the rumors about this were going to be downright inventive. “I don't feel like going to dinner anymore,” Steve said quietly.

Neither did Athonis. He needed to get Steve somewhere safe, soon. Eating dinner in public would delay that too long. “We're going back to Balmora,” he informed Steve. “You're in my service from now until the insult is repaid, and we have a lot to talk about.”

“Okay,” said Steve vacantly. He sounded as bad as he had his first day on Vvardenfell. Athonis hoped he'd snap out of it just as easily, but like all Dunmer, he knew better than to trust that things would just work themselves out.

***

They used the Mages Guild teleporting service to travel instantly from the Vivec guildhall at the top of the Foreign Quarter canton to the Balmora guildhall in the commercial district west of the river. Athonis abandoned the usual rules of decorum by keeping a guiding hand above Steve's elbow the entire way to his house. Steve was grateful for the support, both physical and as an indicator Athonis did not wish him dead.

He'd been trying to talk about how the world could be a better place, but everything he'd said just made Athonis angrier. By the time Athonis started threatening him, Steve was desperate for a way to get out of the situation without getting killed or alienating the mer who'd been kindest to him. His alien instincts guided him to a peaceful option, if he was willing to lose face, which he was by that point. His words and actions diffused the situation, but now he was sworn – publicly sworn – to Athonis' service. After all his concern about Athonis' gifts and expectations, it was humbling that he still wound up in an indebted position.

Inside his home, Athonis told Steve to change into his sleeping robe, then barred the front and upstairs doors. Steve nervously complied. Athonis hadn't said more than a word to him after telling him they needed to talk, so hopefully they would talk before anything... else happened.

Athonis came back downstairs with his own armor off, which made Steve more comfortable with being unarmored himself. Strange how quickly he became accustomed to wearing armor all the time. Athonis cast a spell, frowned at Steve, then cast a couple more spells. Steve didn't feel any magic affecting him, but kept his mouth shut instead of asking what his lord was doing. He'd upset him enough already.

“Well, you're not cursed,” Athonis finally said. Steve wasn't so sure about that, but at least if Athonis thought there wasn't a problem, it had to be something rare, right? “Though there is a stronger connection between your soul and the spirit realm than I'd expect from a normal human. Any idea why that is?”

Steve shook his head.

Athonis sat down in a chair, and gestured for Steve to sit down on the bed they'd shared not two nights ago. Steve gingerly sat. “Tell me, Steve, how do you know a ritual oath that hasn't been used in thousands of years?”

Steve gulped. “I... I don't know. I've been having dreams, and when I wake up they don't go away.” As he spoke, he became more confident. It was a relief to have someone to talk about this with. He just hoped Athonis didn't think he was crazy. “It's like I know things that my dream-self knew. I guess that ritual oath was something my dream-self would do if he'd given insult as badly as I did. I don't think he ever gave insult that badly unless he was looking for a fight, though.”

Athonis focused on the salient point. “You're dreaming you're a Dunmer from thousands of years ago.”

Steve nodded.

“When did that start?”

“After you took me to bed.” Athonis blinked in surprise. Steve continued, “The memories didn't start sticking around until last night, though, and you weren't with me that time.”

“So you were confused about who you were the entire time you were in Vivec.” Steve nodded again, eyes lowered, awaiting Athonis' judgment. “I'm glad I found you when I did, then. You're so unfocused like this, I worry you're going to get killed.”

Part of Steve, the part that wanted to be part of Athonis' House, basked in Athonis' admission of worry like it was a declaration of love. The rest of him felt ill. He didn't want to be worried over, he wanted a way to know his thoughts were his own. “Is there anything we can do?” Steve automatically included Athonis in his plans.

“I've heard of prophetic dreams, but not dreams that grant the knowledge of the dead. If you were Dunmer, you could have gotten that information from your ancestors, but since you're not... I'd say you were crazy, but unless you were a scholar who studied abandoned rituals, there's no way you could know about that ritual oath. As for what 'we' can do... I'm no mystic, but I can teach you Dunmer-style meditation. You may not be able to communicate with your ancestors, but it could help you integrate this new knowledge. If it doesn't work,” Athonis smiled wryly, “you'll just fall asleep.”

“Isn't there a way to get rid of the memories?” Steve didn't want to become some long-dead mer, even if he was a prophesied hero.

“You could ask at the Temple.” Steve made a face. According to the Temple, this shouldn't be happening to outlanders. “That's what I thought. I think, if you don't fight the memories, they could be useful to you, like today – which we will be talking about later. If you accept the memories on your own terms, I think it will be easier for you to stay focused on what you're doing instead of what you're thinking.”

“Athonis... in my dreams, I'm Indoril Nerevar.”

That shocked Athonis into mouth-gaping silence. For a few seconds. “Okay, I can see how it would be disturbing to dream about being someone who has a cult waiting for them to be reborn.”

“I dreamed about Red Mountain, and dying, but the disturbing part is not knowing what I am when I wake up.”

“What you are?”

“I have Chimer feelings,” Steve confessed, hoping not to have to talk about them in too much detail. “I'm an Imperial, I shouldn't think it's normal to wear armor that makes me resemble a bug.”

Athonis narrowed his eyes, and Steve knew his deflection had failed. “You took an oath of service to me because of your 'Chimer feelings', didn't you?”

Steve nodded. “I had angered you, and I wanted to make my opinion of your courage clear.”

That upset Athonis. “Did you want to be part of my House, or did you just want me to keep being nice to you?”

“Both.” Steve blinked. “Do you treat people in your House less nicely than you've been treating me?”

For once, Steve had found the right thing to say. Athonis looked calmer. “No. I am glad you wish to join with me. All of Vivec has probably heard about your oath by now, so it's good you don't want to retract it. No one wise does business with an oathbreaker.”

“I think I've wanted to join with you since the first time I saw you defeat an opponent,” said Steve. At Athonis' look, he added, “As closer-than-allies, I mean.” He flushed. The desire to join with Athonis physically had soon followed the desire to live at his side, but that wasn't germane to the discussion.

Athonis hummed. “Does that mean you had Chimer feelings for me even back in the Imperial City?”

Steve opened his mouth to deny, then thought about it. There were other Dunmer battlemages, but only Athonis had drawn him. The other Dunmer battlemages had been raised in Morrowind. Only Athonis combined exotic Dunmer fierceness with familiar Imperial charm. Steve had thought he was perfect, and called it a crush without searching for a deeper reason. “...Maybe.”

If his foreign nature had been within him even before he came to Morrowind, maybe it wasn't actually foreign. Maybe it was just a part of himself that had been buried, sprouting only when in the proper environment. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to give this meditation thing a try.”

“Great. I'll make the funny-tasting tea. Don't look at me like that, I know this isn't poisonous for humans. Perhaps you've heard of ash yams?”

“Oh. You can make tea from that?”

“I'm pretty sure you can make tea from any plant.”

Steve remained sitting on the bed while Athonis made ash yam tea. A few minutes later, they drank it together. It did indeed taste funny, but was far from the worst medicine Steve had tasted. Once they finished drinking, Athonis told Steve to close his eyes, and patiently talked him through clearing his mind of distractions and finding the level of awareness needed to bring mortal order to knowledge from the spirit world.

After about an hour, Steve's face smoothed out as his focus turned completely inward. There was so much he hadn't known he knew that he couldn't process it consciously. He had to let go of his Imperial upbringing – those habits would not serve him here. He would learn to be a new person - not a Chimer warlord, not a mouthy Imperial street artist, but something in between. Perhaps, once he finished the task the gods had set for him, there would be time to indulge explore those aspects of himself. Put them aside for now.

After three hours of meditation, Steve of Balmora opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books:  
> [Progress of Truth](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Progress_of_Truth)


	8. Disturbing Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something about Steve is different, but he needs to rest first. Unfortunately, sleeping means dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: unreliable narrator, non-graphic violence, Dwemeri circumlocution
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.

_Dagoth-Ur said that the Tribunal had betrayed their King's trust, that they sent Dagoth-Ur to Lorkhan (for that is what they called Shor in Resdayn) so that the god might wreak vengeance on the Dwarves for their hubris; that Nerevar's peace with the Dwemer would be the ruin of the Velothi way. This was the reason for the slow muster, Dagoth-Ur said._  
-Five Songs of King Wulfharth

 

After three hours of meditation, Steve of Balmora opened his eyes. His lord offered him a plate of food. Steve thanked him and ate. Athonis waited until Steve finished eating before asking questions.

“How do you feel?”

“Better.” That was the simplest way to put it. “I don't feel like my thoughts are someone else's anymore. I had to accept those thoughts as part of myself, or I would have joined Sheogorath's faithful before too long. I'm glad I took your advice. Thank you.” He allowed his gratitude towards Athonis to manifest in a smile.

Athonis joined him on the bed, and wrapped an arm around Steve, who leaned against him. Reordering his self was exhausting. “I didn't think meditation would change you this much,” Athonis said quietly. He sounded like he'd lost something he hadn't had been able to appreciate fully.

“I'm still me,” Steve reassured him sleepily. “I'm just less likely to give insult without intending it.”

“That's good, but I'd rather that happen because you gain tact, not because you're possessed by a dead saint.”

“I'd show you how much of a saint I am-” Steve interrupted himself with a yawn, “-but I'm too tired right now. If you don't want me in your bed, tell me now, because I'm going to sleep here if I don't move now.”

“Stay.” Athonis maneuvered both of them under the blankets and settled Steve alongside him where Athonis could run his fingers through his hair. Steve fell asleep almost instantly.

***

Athonis had screwed up. When Dunmer communicated with their ancestors they were never at risk of being overwhelmed by their elders, and Athonis hadn't even known that was a possibility. Steve had arrived on Vvardenfell as a plucky but clueless Imperial, lost his pluck completely by the end of the first day (Athonis understood, seeing that many dead bodies in that short amount of time will have that effect), then seemed to be adjusting well enough that Athonis was comfortable taking him to bed. Had that been a mistake?

He continued idly running his fingers through his sleeping human's hair as he thought.

No, Steve had said that he might have had these feelings even before coming to Morrowind, so the intruding memories probably didn't have anything to do with Athonis' actions. But the sudden shift in Steve's identity... yeah, that was Athonis' fault. He was not a mind-healer; he had no business giving out advice on dealing with multiple sets of memories, but he'd given Steve advice anyway, and Steve had trusted him. And now that Steve was gone.

On a completely selfish level, Athonis was glad that he had someone who understood what it was like to be torn between Imperial and Dunmer identities, and that Steve had trusted him enough to offer his life and service (even if that had been horrible timing) in the face of Athonis' anger. The latter took both courage and humility - valuable qualities in a shield-companion. Yes, from a selfish perspective, he'd gained an oathman he could trust not to stab him in the back and who was willing to share his bed.

From any less-selfish perspective, he'd convinced a perfectly nice, albeit stubborn and naive, young human to destroy part of himself instead of seeking professional help. And he hadn't even known about the risk, because Athonis hadn't known either, which was inexcusable.

Athonis let his hand come to rest on the back of Steve's neck, fingers seeking out the pulse. He listened to the sleeping rhythm of Steve breathing and let it soothe his guilt. A version of Steve was still alive, and indebted to him. He would make sure his human was well-prepared for the dangers everywhere. It was the least he could do in repayment.

He listened to Steve breathe until he joined him in sleep.

***

Steve dreamed of a tall figure with a golden mask. The figure said, "There are many rooms in the house of the Master. Be easy, for from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you."

Steve saw his own corpse laid out on a table lit by candles. He drew near and touched it, and it drew breath, and rose from the table.

The world filled with light.

***

Nerevar was dead. His ghost, though formless, was still able to perceive the mortal plane. He watched his tribunal travel to the Heart chamber and demand Kagrenac's tools from Lord Dagoth.

“Nerevar asked me to keep the tools safe. He said nothing about handing them over to you,” said Dagoth.

“Nerevar is an ancestor now, and we are left to keep his alliance from falling apart. We will keep the tools safe,” Almalexia began, but Dagoth's laugh cut her off.

“You three asked me to invite the Nords and Orcs to ally with the Dwemer and not tell Nerevar I did so. I agreed with your reasoning, but now that I've seen what the tools and the Heart can do, I don't think I can trust you with them. This is too much power for amateur schemers,” Dagoth sneered. “You wouldn't even know how to use them without destroying yourselves.”

Nerevar had thought Dumac had invited the foreign mercenaries to bolster his forces. He certainly hadn't turned them away, but then he hadn't been in a position to turn away potential allies. His advisers had gone behind his back to escalate the situation. How many more Chimer had died because of their influence? He knew Dagoth had his own priorities, but he'd thought he'd known his tribunal.

He had thought he'd known Dumac, too.

“We swore an oath to Azura not to use the tools,” said Vivec. “We wouldn't break an oath sworn before a Daedric Prince.”

Dagoth was unconvinced. “If you are not going to use the tools, I see no reason to surrender them to you.”

“The tools should be studied,” said Sotha Sil, his reasonable tone unable to conceal his eagerness to examine Kagrenac's greatest works. “We don't know how they caused the Dwemer to disappear. The forces invoked may still be at work.”

“I have never met a mage as curious as you who was able to examine a magical artifact without trying to use it.”

“Enough of this prattle.” Almalexia pointed her sword – a wedding gift from Dumac - at Dagoth. “You will give the tools to us, Nerevar's heirs, or I will spill your blood on the Heart.” Vivec drew his paired swords and Sotha Sil readied his spells. “Either way, we are not leaving without the tools.”

“You are fools, and Nerevar was a fool for trusting you. I will not break my oath.”

If Nerevar could cringe in shame, he would have. Dagoth was no match for the combined might of Nerevar's advisers, and they left his lifeless body where it fell once they had the tools. As promised, Dagoth's blood stained the Heart.

Nerevar perceived the ghost of Dumac near him, now. “I am sorry you are disappointed,” Dumac said to him. “That our alliance would break was inevitable, but this outcome was not predicted.”

“That we'd kill each other and my advisers would start murdering our allies?”

“Do you have such a high opinion of your own influence that you think your friendship is enough to reforge the weapons wielded against obstacles? I was told many times that murder is a sacred act among your people. Your regard only stayed those weapons, and now that it is gone, they are free to act.” Talking to most Dwemer was like solving a metaphor puzzle. Dumac was unusually straight-forward for his race.

Nerevar liked a bit of word-play as much as the next diplomat, but being told his friends only sought solutions through negotiation when he was actively watching, and not because they thought it was a better way, was like rubbing salt into his wounded soul. “What did you not predict, then?”

“I have seen the empty chambers beneath the land the northern men stole from the Falmer, and in the far western sands where my cousins emigrated to avoid squabbling with the Chimer. No Dwemer minds still work on this plane. It was theorized that interference with the Heart could have catastrophic effects, so the unexpected nature of this outcome arises from the specific object of destruction.”

Nerevar took a moment to parse that. “All of the Dwemer race is gone? Not just the cities that answer to you?”

“I am glad we never truly succeeded at creating an intelligent form of automaton. It would be cruel to leave them unmastered.”

They had had conversations about creating mechanical life before, and Nerevar wasn't going to rehash those disagreements now. “I am sorry for your loss, my dear,” he said. He may not be able to claim friendship with Dumac anymore, but Dwemeri society's refusal to acknowledge that emotion had a place in relationships did not mean that Nerevar did not have feelings for his Dwemer, and he had ever delighted in teasing Dumac with them. “Perhaps you may meet them again in a future life.”

“I saw many ghosts wandering the battlefield before I appeared to you, Nerevar. None of them had shed their mortality after Kagrenac's mistake.”

The Dwemer that vanished had done so both in soul and body. Nerevar hoped they'd just been transformed to some other state, and not just snuffed out of existence like an unneeded flame. But Dumac was not lost. “I'm glad I killed you, then.”

Dumac understood him. “If Chimer theories on death are correct, I would not object to renewing our association at some future point. I see no need to snub a strong ally.”

The good thing about forgetting your past lives, Nerevar realized, was that you weren't constantly reminded of your failures. He had a Dwemer ghost telling him 'I told you so' in his own way, repeatedly, and Nerevar had no way to cover his mouth. Yes, he’d been wrong to blame Dumac for Kagrenac’s violation of a dead god, but there was no need to remind Nerevar of his failings. They were beyond such things now.

Dagoth's body moved, interrupting the ghosts' conversation. The ghosts perceived energy flowing from the Heart to Dagoth, rejuvenating his life force before death could completely sever body and soul. Dagoth's spirit would not be joining them. Dumac and Nerevar watched Dagoth crawl away from the Heart to a dark corner where he could regain his strength in secret.

“Did you predict this?” Nerevar asked Dumac.

“We know the Heart contained the power of a god. The only problem was determine how to tap into that power, preferably safely. It is interesting that Kagrenac overreached himself, yet Dagoth did not... Nerevar, a question?”

Dumac's questions were often uncomfortable, but Nerevar literally had nothing else to do now. “Ask.”

“What would you do with the power of a god?”

“The same thing I tried to do without it. Make my people into the great nation they have the potential to be. What about you?”

“What would you do with the Dwemer, Lord Nerevar?”

Ah, there was the trap he'd been expecting. “...I would make them part of the Chimer nation.”

“You would change my people into Chimer, because your ways are better than our ways. Is that how it would be, Nerevar?”

They usually managed to agree to disagree. Why did Dumac ask when he clearly knew what Nerevar would say? Dumac would be no better. “And if you had the power of a god, would the Chimer be equals to the Dwemer or slaves like the Falmer who turned to your cousins for sanctuary?”

Dumac let the jab pass. “If you and I had met, as we did, and had worked together and come to respect each other, as we did, and then I came into the power of a god and was unable to share it with you... I would make the people I am responsible for one with your nation. Not my cousins in foreign lands, just the ones in mine. And we would not be Dwemer or Chimer, but something better than both. And I would find a way to keep you by my side.”

Nerevar had not considered sharing the power. Thinking about it, Dumac's dream did have its attractions. “I suppose there are worse fates than becoming like you.”

The ghosts were aware of time passing, but not how much. Then Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec entered the Heart chamber, bringing Kagrenac's tools with them. “This must be what we are here to witness,” Dumac said.

“They swore in the name of Azura not to use the tools,” said Nerevar. “Going behind my back is one thing, but breaking an oath with me – breaking an oath made to Azura – is treacherous and foolhardy.”

“Interesting, how when the potential for reward is great enough, the Chimer care as little for the Daedra as the Dwemer do.”

“You mock the Daedra at your own peril, Dumac. I've warned you before-”

“We're dead, Nerevar, you can stop warning me. And I may mock, but I keep my oaths. Would you prefer it were the other way around?”

The ghosts watched Sotha Sil use the tools to extract energy from the Heart. Then Vivec did the same, and lastly Almalexia. Then Azura, Daedric Prince of Dawn and Dusk, appeared to Nerevar's tribunal in the form of a Chimer woman.

“You are fools, and you have doomed your people with your actions,” She said to the new gods. At Her words, their skin turned blue and ashen, and their eyes became red and glowing. “You think to make yourselves gods by taking from the dead what was never meant to be yours,” Azura continued. “Let the new face of your people be a reminder that your power was gained through blasphemy, desecration, and betrayal. Know that the one you betrayed will return and undo everything you build from this moment forward. Remember your lord, and know that you are unfit to lead his people.” Her curse pronounced, Azura vanished from their sight, but the ghosts still perceived Her presence.

The Tribunal, though shaken, disregarded Azura's words.

“She cannot remove our powers,” said Sotha Sil. “We are still gods, and we took these powers to make our people into a great nation. We cannot let the impotent rantings of a spirit too removed from the people to still be relevant divert us from realizing that dream.”

“Our people will need our guidance,” said Almalexia. “They will learn to love and worship the gods who walk among them, and forget the gods who do not understand what it is to be mortal.”

“With three gods watching over them, our people will be safe until the end of time,” said Vivec.

They left the Heart chamber.

“Do you see your error now, my champion?” Azura asked Nerevar's ghost.

“I should not have trusted them. I am sorry, my prince, I thought they would respect an oath sworn to you,” said Nerevar. “I will do whatever you deem necessary to correct my folly.”

“It will take many lifetimes. Your former friends will curse you and deny you. You will be opposed by gods,” Azura informed him.

“I will do whatever is necessary,” Nerevar repeated.

“A new life dawns for you, my champion,” Azura said, and the ghost of Nerevar was gone. “What, mocker? Nothing to say?” She asked the remaining ghost.

“It was kind of you to allow me contact with my friend before he was lost to me forever, but I am uncertain what your purpose was.”

“Nerevar is my favorite, but he cannot shape the destiny of his people alone. Though you were not of his people, your heart kept his from souring. I offer the chance to 'renew your association'.”

“Under what conditions?”

“You will both have new lives. You will not remember meeting before, unless I allow it.”

“...I will not leave my friend alone on his journey. I accept your offer, Daedric Prince.”

“A new life dawns for you, friend of my champion.” And the ghost of Dumac was gone.

***

Athonis and Steve woke abruptly at dawn. Steve sighed. It seemed meditation was no cure for bad dreams. He didn't feel like any new memories had manifested, unless you counted a list of riddles that a certain Dwemer thought were inappropriate for Nerevar to mention during sex. It was a long list.

Steve sat up in bed and posed one of the riddles to Athonis. It seemed clever to him.

Athonis glared at him fuzzily. “That wasn't clever the first time you told me that, and it's not any cleverer now,” he said, then shook his head as if trying to rid himself of an unwanted thought. “...You've never told me that before. Not in this life.”

Steve's eyes were wide. Were dream memories contagious? “Please tell me you're not dreaming you're Nerevar, too.”

“No. I'm,” Athonis said something unpronounceable, then coughed. “My throat does not work like that. 'Dumac' is easier.”

Steve couldn't stop staring. “In my dream, I was a ghost.”

Athonis met his gaze guardedly. “Nerevar and I had killed each other, and plenty of our allies. After we died, Azura sent us to our next lives. Is that what you dreamed?”

Steve swallowed. “Yes.”

“Come here.” Athonis sat up and embraced Steve comfortingly. “If we're crazy, we'll be crazy together. That's something, right?”

Steve nodded. “It's looking like those Nerevarine prophecies have some truth to them. They didn't say anything about the return of the Dwarfking, though.”

“I'm not a Dwemer,” Athonis reminded him. “And you're not even a mer. Having the memories of a dead person does not translate into actual experience, or mean that you’re the Nerevarine.” He released Steve from his embrace.

“I'm not about to stand in the plaza and announce to people that I'm Saint Nerevar returned,” Steve replied reasonably, “but you sharing my dream, but from Dumac's perspective, makes me think that I'm not crazy. There is something going on here, and it involves both of us and probably ancient prophecies as well.”

Athonis was not ready to admit that he was crazy, nor was he ready to admit he was mixed up in a prophecy.

Steve, seeing Athonis waver, pressed his point. “Why are both of us affected? Why do I feel like I have so much to make up for with you,” he whispered.

Athonis' face twisted in a grimace. “Your service will repay me,” he reminded Steve.

“I'm not talking about the debts of this life. I'm talking about the debt of a clan leader who broke faith with his blood-friend.”

“Nerevar paid for that with his life, as well as the lives of his kinsmen,” Athonis reminded Steve. “Nerevar owes Dumac nothing more. He was foolish to make ties with the Dwemer in the first place.”

“It was foolish, but it allowed his people to enjoy a golden age. Despite how it ended, I can't regret the two centuries of peace after longer centuries of fighting.”

“You don't regret how it ended? Your people still _exist_ , Nerevar,” Athonis hissed.

“So does the world,” Steve responded evenly.

Athonis deflated, and rubbed his face with his hands. “I need to meditate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first dream sequence in this chapter is taken from the game with only minor alterations.
> 
> Books:  
> [Five Songs of King Wulfharth](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Five_Songs_of_King_Wulfharth) \- quote is from the sixth song


	9. The Waiting Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes nice with some Balmora professionals, and Athonis talks to dead people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: brief posthumous appearance by Howard Stark (genderswapped)
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.

_...the family members pay their respects to their ancestors through sacrifice and prayer, through oaths sworn upon duties, and through reports on the affairs of the family. In return, the family may receive information, training, and blessings from the family's ancestors._  
-Ancestors and the Dunmer

“Go get yourself some breakfast and then report in to Cosades. Amuse yourself for a few hours. I'm going to bar the door and meditate,” Athonis informed Steve.

“...Sure,” Steve said, and got up from bed.

“And don't go looking for any more fights until your armor is fixed,” ordered Athonis.

Steve raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “See you in a few hours.”

Athonis followed him to the barred front door. Once Steve had gotten dressed and gone outside, he heard the thump of the door being barred again inside. Steve would have preferred to stand watch over his lord as he meditated, like Athonis had done for him, but Athonis didn't trust in his ability to keep him safe. Or maybe, Steve recalled Athonis' instructions, it was because he couldn't cook for Steve this morning. Steve shook his head. Even after several human lifetimes of knowing him, he still didn't understand how his friend's mind worked.

Of course, Athonis was right in pointing out that having another person's memories didn't make you that person... but it was giving him ideas. Steve's stomach growled. But right now, he'd obey orders and find some breakfast.

Instead of crossing the river for breakfast and then having to cross back afterwards to talk to the Spymaster, Steve decided to investigate what the South Wall Cornerclub served in the morning. The Nord woman who'd greeted him his first night in Balmora was not at the door this time, and the hallway was empty. Descending the stairs at the end of the hallway, Steve found everyone had congregated in the eating area. Bacola, the owner who'd given Steve extremely precise directions that night, was making kwama omelets. Everyone stopped talking and looked up when Steve descended the stairs.

Steve removed his helmet and greeted the room with a polite smile. “I smelled something delicious from outside. I was hoping to try a taste, if I'm not interrupting anything.”

“Of course the friend of Sir Tarth is not interrupting,” said a female Khajiit in chitin armor. “Come, sit, speak with Habasi.”

Steve placed a few coins on the bar to pay for his own breakfast, and sat down across the table from the Khajiit. “You are most kind, ma'am.” The rest of the room resumed their conversations, at a lower volume. Steve was still the general focus of attention, but he appreciated the attempt at subtlety.

Habasi's ears perked up with curiosity. “Habasi's friends tell her that Sir Tarth, a friend to all peaceful businesspeople on Vvardenfell,” Steve took that as a hint as to how Habasi made her living, “has been seen in the company of an Imperial newcomer to the island on several occasions, the last of which was last night. Habasi's friends said that last night in Vivec, the Imperial pledged his soul to Sir Tarth's service, and Sir Tarth dragged him home by the scruff of his neck and barred the door behind them so he would not be disturbed while he performed certain acts forbidden by the Temple on the Imperial's body,” Habasi purred suggestively.

Steve just managed not to blush. He could see the other occupants of the room listening in while pretending not to. He wasn't used to being the object of gossip, in this life. “But now the Imperial is here,” Habasi continued, “and still in good health, and there was no screaming last night – Habasi confesses it is disappointing to have a powerful mage with the appetites of Sanguine himself living next door and not get to hear any screaming-” Steve was incapable of not blushing at that comment, and the general chuckles from the audience didn't help “-so Habasi asks Sir Tarth's Imperial: why did he kick you out of bed so early?”

Still blushing, Steve considered what to say. A measure of the truth was called for, but not so much as to betray any secrets or vulnerability. “He... thought of a project he wanted to work on without any interruptions when he woke up, and told me to find something to do elsewhere while he was occupied.” That ought to cover it, and it was true as well.

Habasi's ears flattened to the sides in disappointment. “Habasi is ever disappointed in Sir Tarth for not living up to his reputation for debauchery. Did you at least pledge your soul to him?”

“Sorry, ma'am, just my service, until my debt is paid off.”

Habasi sighed regretfully. “That is much less romantic. But at least the Imperial has chosen well for his master. Sir Tarth will not keep you in service for longer than is fair, and you will never be cold or hungry.”

Bacola chose this moment to serve them both omelets. “Khajiit style for the lady, and human-style for the newcomer.” Habasi and Steve thanked him, then dug in, Habasi enjoying the food enough that she stopped her interrogation.

Steve's omelet contained several herbs he didn't recognize, though he could sense their mild beneficial effects once he swallowed. The egg itself tasted different than the pigeon and chicken eggs he sometimes ate in the Imperial City, but still good.

Once he was finished eating, Steve politely bid Habasi goodbye, and left the South Wall before she could ask him any more questions. Perhaps he should have stayed and made sure a well-connected person had a true version of events, but Habasi seemed too interested in salacious details, and Steve wasn't comfortable discussing his intimate relationships with strangers. Especially when he wasn't certain of the boundaries of the relationship himself.

Caius Cosades also had questions, after accepting Steve's report and copy of Progress of Truth. “You didn't actually swear your soul to Tarth, did you?”

Caius deserved a slightly more detailed answer than Habasi, though Steve wasn't about to discuss his dreams and new knowledge with an imperial spy. He was reporting to him on the emperor's orders, not because he trusted him personally. “I insulted him accidentally, and offered my life or service as payment. I was pretty sure he wasn't going to take my life.” Not when he was kneeling and hadn't actually attacked him, anyway.

“Tarth is an outlander, and he likes you,” Caius reminded Steve of the obvious. “He most likely would have accepted an apology. You didn't need to make a public oath. Talos knows, you might have earned some approval from traditional Dunmer for insulting him.”

An apology hadn't seemed like enough at the time, though. It still didn't, considering all Dumac had lost. Even his oath didn't seem like enough, since Athonis hadn't asked for anything yet. But explaining all that would quickly get into things Steve wanted to keep hidden for now. Caius didn’t need to know about what Steve was pretty sure was a past life. “I'm not looking for approval from traditional Dunmer,” he reminded Caius instead. “I want to keep the friends I have, and not lose them over my inability to stop talking.”

Caius held up his hands, surrendering on the issue. “All right, it's your choice which bed to sleep in. I'm going to need some time to look over the information you've brought me, but I'm happy with the work you've been doing so far, so here are a couple of intervention scrolls. You can use them to teleport to the nearest Temple or Imperial Cult I shrine, if you're ever in a tight spot.”

Steve thanked him for the scrolls and left. Being left to his own devices for a few days was suspiciously convenient, but he was free to do whatever Athonis asked now. But... it had been less than an hour since he'd left Athonis' house, and he couldn't spend the rest of the time Athonis was meditating sitting on the front steps looking like a lost puppy.

He didn't have any loot to sell, he couldn't think of any spells he wanted to learn. Well, any spells he actually had a chance of casting successfully. He could buy some training? Caius had told him to visit the Blades trainers earlier. He'd go talk to the ones in Balmora now.

***

After hustling Steve out the door and barring it behind him, Athonis brewed some more ash yam tea. He wasn't looking forward to this, but going outside with his mind in its current state of disorder was unacceptable. A mage depended on his mind, as did any warrior worth the name, and Athonis being something between the two did not mean he depended on his own mind any less than either 'pure' type.

He was afraid of being subsumed and becoming something wholly other, but he was more afraid of what would happen if he didn't deal with this. (He would face the truth without flinching, something most non-Dwemer weren't able to do.)

He wasn't afraid of encountering the spirit of his mother, he simply had no more to say to her in death than he had in life. Perhaps he wouldn't encounter her at all.

Athonis drank his tea, then concentrated on clearing his surface mind and ordering his thoughts. He was open to contact by spirits bound to him by blood during meditation, which was part of why he'd sent Steve out before doing this. Ancestor spirits would get upset if they manifested to speak clearly to a descendent, at great effort on their part, and were banished by violence before they could pass on their message. It was easier not to explain everything that might happen that Steve might not react well to. Steve might think he has the memories of Saint Nerevar, but Athonis had yet to see Steve use the manners of the great First Councilor.

As he'd expected, Ihowaris distracted him during his meditation. She didn't manifest physically, but then she rarely had when she was alive. _You've neglected your duties, my heir. Have you come to apologize?_

_No_ , Athonis replied shortly. He’d stopped making offerings and reports at the family shrine after his mother died specifically to avoid speaking to her. There was only one other ancestor who bothered to speak to Athonis, and he’d been dead so long the passage of time had little meaning. Athonis saw no point in performing rituals in service of his ancestors who thought his father’s blood polluted their family line. And considering the lack of warmth with which his ancestors received him, he wasn’t about to start having children that those ancestors could treat with the same disregard.

_You are young, there's still time to rebuild our House. The human you left running it would make adequate breeding stock, if you can't find a Dunmer woman willing to have you_. Well, maybe Ihowaris should have thought about the consequences for her own choice in ‘breeding stock’.

Athonis couldn't let that insult to Virinia pass. _Virinia has a husband, and excellent command of destruction spells. If you'd care to visit, and describe her in that manner, I'm sure she'd happily provide a demonstration._

_I'm starting to think you don't care if our line ends with you._

_Correct. Now go away_. Ihowaris being assassinated before having another child was not Athonis’ problem. It had been almost a hundred years between his father’s death and Ihowaris’, so he wasn’t sure why she hadn’t taken another husband to get the heirs she really wanted. Most of the time when he thought about his mother, he wondered why she bothered to carry Athonis to term. Was she arrogant enough to expect a half-Imperial child to be accepted by her House, and then arrogant enough to think she’d have all the time in the world to find an ideal husband?

Athonis sensed the spirit's shock at his response before her presence faded from his mind. He put the conversation aside and re-focused on sorting his thoughts. Another spirit made itself known about an hour later, but waited patiently for Athonis to finish his organization. This spirit's advice he welcomed.

_You have prospered since we last spoke_ , said Jaris.

_It's been a few years. Jaris, did you know... what I am?_

_Not until now, which I think was for the best. Our kin refused to speak to you due to your mixed ancestry. I doubt they would be accepting of any who had not been Dunmer in their past life, as well._

_And you... don't mind?_

_I did not live so long ago that I fought against the Dwemer, nor did I make a study of them. I know they are gone, and you are alone, just like you were when I spoke to you the first time. I'd say lacking other spiritual advice means you're more in need of my counsel, not less._

_What counsel do you have to offer me, honored ancestor?_ Athonis could be respectful, to those respected him.

_Your oathman would serve your desires more as an equal than a subordinate, but that you knew. What you do not know, and have convinced yourself you do, is that your oathman's mind is not broken. He is more awake than he was when you met, but that is not a cause for sorrow, and no parts have been lost._

That was good to learn, but... _Can I trust him?_

_You can trust him as much as you could in the last life you remember, if you continue as you have been. If you want to trust him more, you should open yourself to him. If you do this, he will learn to be as open with you._

Ancestors loved cryptic messages, but Athonis needed something clarified. _Is that a sex thing?_

He could almost hear Jaris sigh. _Emotionally open, kinsman_. More knowingly, _I know better than to give you advice about sex things._

Athonis laughed and slipped out of meditation.

***

There were three Blades in Balmora offering training, other than Caius himself. Steve visited the Redguard warrior, Altmer healer, and Argonian hunter, and they all gave him something to use or sell to pay for training. Steve made a trip across the river to the commercial district to sell off the heavy equipment and illegal drugs before coming back to the healer for training in understanding the magical forces used to restore and enhance the body. After a couple hours of lessons, Steve felt like trying to learn more would be a waste of his coin and everyone's time, so he thanked the healer and left.

It was almost noon, so he checked to see if Athonis had unbarred the door yet. He had. Steve let himself in.

Athonis, dressed and armored except for his helmet, was sitting at his writing table making notes and muttering to himself. Steve smiled inside his helmet. No, he hadn't been worried at all when his... lord, definitely lord, barred himself alone in his house and sent Steve away, it was just nice to see him. Safe.

Then he realized how few vowels had been present in Athonis' conversation with himself. Maybe it wasn't alright. “Athonis?”

“Lunch is over there, Steve,” Athonis waved a hand in the vague direction of the kitchen. At least he could still speak Imperial.

The next morning he and Athonis slept here, Steve decided, he was going to cook for Athonis, because Athonis’ impulse to feed him at every opportunity was getting ridiculous. But first he would need to read his new cookbook to get some ideas.

Right now, lunch appeared to be herbs in an orange paste. It was bland, even with herbs, but Steve ate it anyway. If the orange paste was kwama cuttle, then it would protect him from being poisoned, making this an excellent dish for a beginning cook. Steve made a note of that idea in his journal.

After eating, Steve was at Athonis’ disposal. He took a seat with a line of sight and comfortable speaking distance to Athonis and took out his cookbook. The first chapter was on which food combinations, such as rat meat and large kwama eggs (the small ones were fine), should not be served except to races that were resistant to poison.

Steve had gotten halfway through the section on what horrible effects could be expected when novices cooked with mushrooms when Athonis put down his pen and sighed. “I understand so much more now than I did before, but I still don't understand all I did before. I know the answers are there if I take the correct approach, but I'm not sure what that approach is.”

“Are we supposed to know everything our past lives knew?” Steve pointed out.

Athonis looked at him flatly, then looked down at his notes, and blinked. “Well, at least I can read Dwemeri now. I suppose that's enough progress for today.” He turned back to Steve. “Your armor is in terrible condition. Take it off and let me show you how to fix it.”

Steve removed his cuirass, and Athonis looked at his chest intently. “I'm pretty sure your shirt wasn't so tight when you got here. That is the same shirt, right?”

“Yes,” Steve admitted. Now that Athonis mentioned it, it had gotten tighter. And maybe he should wash it more than once a week.

“All right, new plan: we're going to get you some clothes that fit you better. I've heard of things like this happening to novice adventurers – they start engaging in combat regularly and their muscles get so big that their clothes split in the middle of a fight. We can't have that happening to you. Plus, your clothes are too cheap for you to be one of my retainers.”

So instead of getting a lesson in caring for his armor, Steve put his cuirass back on, they both put on their helmets, and Steve followed Athonis across the river to the noble district. Milie Hastien, the clothier, greeted Athonis with a professional smile. “I heard you took on a new retainer, Sir Tarth, though I'm glad to see the rest of the rumors were exaggerated. What can I do for you?”

“Take off your armor, Steve. Madam, I think you can see the problem.”

Steve removed his armor and stood barefoot in the shop while a purveyor of fine textile works looked over exactly how poorly his prison-release-issue clothing fit him. From the look on her face, she was only allowing him to remain in her store in that condition because Athonis was going to give her a large amount of gold to correct the problem. “Yes, I see. What quality of work did you have in mind for him?” Milie asked Athonis. Steve resigned himself to having as much say as a mannequin. His fashion sense was about as well-developed as a mannequin, so in a sense that was an appropriate role for him in this conversation.

“More expensive than what he's wearing now, but nothing extravagant. He's still an oathman, not a lord, after all.”

“Quite. I'll just take his measurements now, and I'll have something for you in... say, a week?”

“Do you have anything close to fitting that we could take now? The pants are okay for now, but the shirt seems ready to peel off him like an old snakeskin.”

Milie made a face. “I suppose, though you really shouldn't wait until it's an emergency before coming to me.”

Athonis' helmet tilted entreatingly, and Milie agreed and went into her storage room to find something. After Steve changed his shirt, and Athonis and Milie negotiated a payment agreement, lord and oathman headed back across the river for an armor repair lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:  
> Jaris - Edwin Jarvis  
> Virinia "Fire Salts" Pacques - Virginia "Pepper" Potts
> 
> Books:  
> [Ancestors and the Dunmer](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Ancestors_and_the_Dunmer)


	10. A Less Rude Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athonis and Steve discover the drawback to having the same lover in two lifetimes, another Avenger joins the main cast, and the Imperial Cult makes Athonis very angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: creative swearing, maybe?
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.

_The Guild of Fighters provides employment to free-swords and mercenaries and contracts to local citizens. Citizens may contract with the Guild for the removal of creatures and pests, the delivery of goods on dangerous routes, the collection of beasts for the arenas, and other duties defined by the Guild Stewards._  
-Imperial Charter of the Guild of Fighters

 

Steve and Athonis' journey home was interrupted by a mer with a vacant look in her eyes, who announced, “I am a Sleeper, one amongst thousands. The Sixth House calls you, Steve! Shed your cursed skin, join your lord in Red Mountain, and drive the n'wah from Morrowind!”

Steve declined and the self-proclaimed Sleeper allowed them to pass, staring after them creepily. “I saw that woman buying food last week,” said Athonis. “She seemed sane then, and she was wearing an amulet of St. Felms.”

“Which one is he?”

“The illiterate barbarian who killed lots of infidels.”

Steve couldn't resist. “The Temple has a Nord saint?”

Athonis chuckled. “No, he was a Dunmer. The Temple says he heard Almalexia's voice in his head.”

“And she told him to kill the infidels? Actually, I can see her doing that.” Almalexia once told him about the time she participated in a tournament honoring the Daedric Prince Boethiah on Mount Assarnibibi. It had one hundred entrants, and only one survivor. She said she’d felt reborn after emerging victorious.

At home, Athonis insisted Steve wear his too-small shirt for the lesson. From the way Athonis had stared at his chest earlier, Steve suspected an ulterior motive, but his lord did manage to maintain a professional tone as he demonstrated how to use a repair hammer to restore Steve's armor to its full protection potential. Steve used up several hammers before they finished, but at least he hadn't added to the damage. Athonis told him to take ten hammers for his inventory so he'd be able to fix his equipment in the field.

Instead, Steve took off his tight shirt and posed to show off his recently-developed biceps and chest muscles. “Is there anything else we need to do right now, or would you prefer to inspect your holdings?”

By the way Athonis dragged him to bed, he was amenable to the suggestion.

***

“I didn't expect more experience to make me less competent,” Athonis muttered into Steve's shoulder afterward.

Steve giggled. Gaining the knowledge of several centuries of sexual encounters should have made them both experts at pleasing each other. In their past lives, it had. In this life, their bodies were different, and though the gross mechanics were the same, they did not enjoy the same subtle touches they had in the past. Acting on old knowledge without thinking, expecting the same reactions as their past bodies, had resulted in some hilarious moments. After they'd figured out not to trust the old memories, things went more smoothly... until they acted on old habits, and had to remember who they were with again.

Athonis seemed to be taking this turn of events with less grace than Steve. Of course, Steve didn't have a reputation to protect. “That reminds me,” Steve said. “We never talked about who else we're sleeping with.” He'd slept with Athonis twice now in a short period of time, and he'd probably be doing so in the future, so it was within his rights to ask. Athonis may be looked down on by traditional Dunmer, but he was charming and powerful. In Chimer society, he would have established intimate relationships with several people.

“Oh,” Athonis said, embarrassed. “You're my only bed partner right now. I tend to look for people I can keep close and not share, and most people I find interesting don't fit one of those. Sorry. I think it's my Imperial upbringing.” Most Imperials expected to get married and set up housekeeping with their spouse. Cheating was scandalous.

Considering Athonis’ reputation, Steve was surprised he was Athonis' only current lover, but Steve could work with that. “You might have noticed that I'm Imperial. I don't mind being the only one who provides you with pleasure.” And now he was curious, and either he didn't have that memory or Nerevar had never asked. “Was Dumac sleeping with anyone other than me?”

Athonis rolled onto his back. Steve was disappointed. “No. Nerevar visited frequently enough that I never needed to find anyone else.”

Steve wasn't sure whether to be pleased or saddened at that. He turned in bed and wrapped himself around Athonis, who encouraged him with a one-armed embrace. “If I don't visit often enough in this life, then come find me and let me make it up to you.”

Athonis froze, and Steve wondered what he'd said wrong now. Steve could feel some interesting vibrations from his position on Athonis' chest as the Dunmer growled, “Do not sleep with me because of obligation, or guilt, or pity,” he spat the last word.

Steve licked at Athonis' chest, which startled him out of rigidity. “Please tell me it's okay to sleep with you because you're attractive,” Steve said.

Athonis sighed, and bit out, “I suppose that will do for now.” He was still tense after saying it.

It took a moment, but then Steve realized what a concession to sentiment that sentence had been. “I'm not sure what I feel for you,” he told his nervous, insecure lover. “It seems too soon since we met to be love, but in a spiritual sense it's been more than long enough since we've met. I'm not sure if it's love, but I'm not ruling it out, either.” Steve was sure that in time, he would love Athonis, if he didn’t already, and unless and until Athonis forced him to leave, he was going to see this through. He would be unsure of Athonis’ feelings, but the constant feeding and gift-giving left Steve pretty sure Athonis welcomed Steve’s attention.

Athonis turned and kissed him deeply. “I love honesty,” he said.

“I want to cook for you,” Steve blurted.

They stared at each other, and then Athonis let him go. “You are a strange, strange human,” Athonis said. He smirked, and took on a stage actor's diction. “You have my leave, oathman. Go, prepare me a meal, if it brings you pleasure.” He dismissed Steve with a grandiose wave.

Steve regretted leaving bed, but he did want to cook for Athonis. Every time Athonis fed him, Steve felt like a baby bird in the nest, waiting for its parent to bring it food, which didn't sit well with him. He was an adult and could feed himself and his friends, sometimes. Now that he was a wealthy adventurer, he could definitely afford to buy food for himself and his friends whenever he wanted, but for Athonis he wanted to do the cooking himself. He was pretty sure that was an Imperial impulse, though Nerevar would approve of a course of action that did not allow strangers the chance to poison Dumac.

Steve decided to do the cooking in his sleeping robe, since he didn't want to take the chance of ruining his clothes. After looking through the available food and consulting his cookbook, he decided to make bittergreen soup. There was enough water in the house jug, but he had to dig through the cupboards to find the fire striker gathering dust behind some broken plates. Athonis must use magic to light his cooking fires.

By the time the soup was done, Athonis had moved to his writing desk and was scratching away with pen and paper. He was wearing pants but no shirt or shoes, which boded well for Steve's post-dinner plans. Steve served him, and they ate, but there was plenty left over. Steve asked if he should dump the soup in the river, or leave it over a low flame so they could eat it tomorrow.

Athonis smiled at him. “Since I'm rich, neither. Get dressed, take the soup pot and a ladle, and walk from here to the silt strider port, and then through the commercial district to the temple. According to Morrowind custom, if anyone asks you for soup along the way, you give them all they want. If you still have soup in the pot when you get to the temple, give the rest to them.”

Steve didn't want to get dressed, but he did like this system. The soup pot was easy to carry on a handle, though Steve did feel ridiculous wearing all his armor to distribute food. No one stopped him on the bridge, though he did gain a couple approving looks. Two beggars at the silt strider port, who didn't look as hungry as beggars in the Imperial City, accepted a bowl-full each, as did another one in the plaza. The pot had cooled enough to touch by the time a Nord woman drank the last serving and a half directly from the pot, belched, and thanked Steve for the snack.

“You're welcome, ma'am,” Steve said, and managed to make it back home without being accosted by a member of the Sixth House.

Athonis was waiting for him in bed. They did better this time, but when he slept Steve still dreamed of the creepy figure in the golden mask.

***

The next morning, Athonis woke up Steve and made him do stretches before breakfast. Supposedly this would make him more comfortable moving over long distances and reduce the cramping that came with rapid muscle growth. Steve hadn't noticed how sore he'd felt all the time until it stopped. He kept practicing while Athonis did something to kwama eggs. The result was simple yet tasty, which was a combination Steve approved of.

“Today we start introducing you to my friends,” Athonis informed him. “I wrote to them the first night you stayed with me, so they won't be too surprised to see you.”

They took the Mages Guild teleport service back to Vivec, and walked next door to the Fighters Guild hall. Even if Steve hadn't seen the sign, the smell of sweaty warrior ground into the stone would have let him know what kind of people occupied this place.

“Is the Guildmaster in?” Athonis asked the Redguard at the front desk.

“Yes, Sir Tarth. He's probably still catching up on paperwork in his office.”

The inside of the Fighters Guild was smaller than the Mages Guild, but had a more confusing layout, in case you forgot you were still in Vivec. Athonis led Steve to the right, through a series of short corridors and rooms, until they reached the door connecting a sparring room with the Guildmaster's office. Athonis removed his helmet and knocked on the open door. Following Athonis' lead, Steve removed his helmet as well.

A big Nord man looked up from the stack of paper on his writing desk and grinned at them. “Athonis! Your timing is excellent. Is this your new housecarl?” Seeing their confusion, he added, “One who has taken an oath to defend all that is yours, to the death.”

“No, he's just paying off a debt to me. He's free to leave once it's been repaid, but since that could take a while, I wanted to introduce him to some important people who aren't involved in House politics. Steve, this is Thor War-Kin, Guildmaster of Fighters on Vvardenfell. Thor, this is Steve, my oathman.”

Steve bowed slightly in respect to an allied warrior of high rank. Thor nodded regally and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, though I confess I was hoping your oath-taking two days ago was the beginning of something worthy of song. But I'm sure if you stay close to Athonis you will find glory before long.”

“My blushes,” Athonis grinned. “So tell me, Grandmaster, have you seen anything on your travels that the legion should be concerned about?”

Thor grew serious. “The Blight continues to spread, as it has for the past few years. A corprus stalker was sighted in the St. Olms underworks, but the Ordinators killed and incinerated it. They said you took care of that serial killer in the Foreign Quarter yourself. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Steve hadn't thought about information sharing between Vvardenfell's various martial factions. There was the Imperial Legion, the Fighters Guild, the Ordinators, the various House guards, and he should probably include the Morag Tong in that list, too. They were as honorable as knights, but fought more pragmatically.

“Besides the serial killer, there was an outbreak of stupidity right before Steve arrived in Seyda Neen. More recently... Thor, have you noticed more crazy people in the cities?”

“Now that you mention it, there have been more people speaking nonsense. There are only five Great Houses, even I know that.” Steve realized that after collecting information from so many informants, he was much better informed about two mysterious cults than possibly any other outlander.

“There used to be six,” Athonis informed Thor. “The Sixth House was destroyed because their leader allied with the Dwemer against the other five Houses. The Temple says that leader still lives, under Red Mountain, and all evil on Vvardenfell has him at the source.” The Tribunal probably lied to explain why they'd attacked Lord Dagoth, and that lie led to the elimination of an entire House by death, marriage, and adoption. House Dagoth hadn't venerated the daedra or the ancestors as the other Houses had, but would the Tribunal have eliminated them just to consolidate their hold on the believing Houses, despite House Dagoth fighting against the Dwemer alongside the other five Houses at Red Mountain? Steve would have said no when he was Nerevar, but Nerevar had been blind to his friends' true natures, and when he believed the religious friction between the Sixth House and the other five would be overcome in a few centuries.

“Has no one investigated, then?” Thor looked eager to get out of his office and slay evil in its lair. It may be dangerous, but it would get him out of paperwork for a few more days. No one sang songs about glorious victory over paperwork.

“Red Mountain region is so dangerous even the Buoyant Armigers stay close to the Ghostfence,” Athonis reminded Thor. “It's full of monsters and animals infected with blight diseases and corprus. And there's no cure for corprus. You know why the Ordinators incinerated that corprus stalker instead of letting the slaughterfish eat it.”

“I have seen beasts infected with corprus grown mad and deformed,” Thor agreed. “I would not wish that on any creature... though with slaughterfish you wouldn't notice any change in demeanor.” Steve had encountered slaughterfish a few times, and now he never went swimming without armor and a sword. Most of the time he needed them.

“Red Mountain is not the sort of place you can go wandering around without a plan,” said Athonis. “If there was a plan, though, I'll be sure to let you know.”

Thor looked at Athonis, and smirked. “You schemer,” he said fondly. “I will join your party when you go to Red Mountain. Or if you find something that needs its skull crushed. Until then, I will be here,” Thor sighed at his paperwork.

Athonis shook his head at the mournful picture. “Hire a clerk, Thor.”

“Nay. I will fulfill my responsibilities myself.” Thor sat up straight as if steeling himself for battle, and picked up his pen. “Good luck, Steve. Athonis, may the wind be at your back.”

Athonis clapped Thor on the shoulder and led Steve away.

“Athonis,” Steve asked as they made their way out of the guildhall. “Which faction is in charge of dealing with haunted houses? In Caldera, for instance.”

“Caldera is patrolled by legion guards,” said Athonis. “If the ghost stayed in the house, the guards would need the invitation of the owner, or the owner could contract with the Fighters Guild.”

“Or they could ask the Imperial Cult,” said Steve.

Athonis stopped halfway between the Fighters and Mages guildhalls. “Steve. Did the Cult send you to deal with a haunted house?”

“I took care of it,” Steve said. “I had an enchanted sword, and the ghost wasn't much of a challenge after I de-animated the skeletons.”

“Rat-kissing fetchers. They had no business sending you to fight a ghost by yourself. If someone gives you another task like that, you tell me. Don't just trust that they wouldn't give you a task too difficult for you. Crab-brained s'wits.”

Athonis' cursing slowed down as he realized Steve hadn't replied. “Steve. Out with it.”

***

Athonis Tarth stomped into Thor's office, not bothering to remove his helmet. “Thor,” he growled. At moments like this, Thor found it disappointing that Dunmer did not study the thu'um. With a speaking voice that commanding, Athonis would surely have a powerful Voice. “There is a witch in an egg-mine near Khuul that can summon bonewalkers. Are you in?”

Thor regarded his paperwork. He had finished the urgent items, and the rest could wait for a few days while he stretched his legs. “Aye,” he replied, and put on his trollbone helmet. “And on the way, you will explain what this witch has done to offend you so.”

Athonis' hireling, clad in a mixture of bonemold and chitin armor, bearing an enchanted iron sword and an Imperial Legion shield, flanked the Dunmer battlemage two steps behind him and to the left. The battlemage himself wore his customary daedric-infused Dwemer armor and carried an enchanted axe of his own make. Thor himself wore all trollbone armor and bore an enchanted steel hammer, gifted to him by his mother on his ascension to adulthood. It was the only reminder of her he had left, and had saved his life many times. Since she had had prophetic visions, he liked to think that her gift to him had also been her way of looking after him when she wasn't there to do so herself.

The trio teleported from the Vivec Mages guildhall to the Ald'ruhn Mages guildhall. The Ald'ruhn guildhall was dimmer than Vivec and very blue. Thor peered over the balcony railing as they walked toward the exit and saw a few mages and commoners studying, but not Jeanne. She was probably still working on repairing the Dwemer orrery they'd found a few months ago.

They walked out of the front door of the Mages Guild into an ash storm. Athonis grabbed his hireling's arm and tugged him in the direction of the silt strider port. There was a long, steep ramp up to the boarding platform, but they could hear the silt strider over the storm, so they kept climbing. Athonis managed to complete a transaction with the caravaner in charge of the silt strider despite neither party being able to see or hear clearly, and all four of them boarded the giant insect.

An hour after they left Ald'ruhn, the ash storm stopped. “So, Athonis,” Thor asked, “Why are you so angry about this particular witch?”

Steve looked away from Athonis. Athonis said, “The Imperial Cult was going to send Steve after her alone.”

“Ah. You feel he was not up to the task.” Thor saw Steve's helmet abruptly turn to face him. It was not wise to coddle one's warriors, but neither should their lives be wasted. Without seeing Steve in action, he wasn't sure which this was.

“I feel they should have more respect for the lives of their lay servants,” Athonis retorted. “The Imperial Cult doesn't even require skill in using armor for advancement in rank. How do they expect their members to survive a serious fight? They should stick to charity, and ask the legion for help when there's fighting to be done.”

“And if the legion can't help, or there isn't time?” Steve spoke up.

“Then they should encourage their members to use a more effective defense than 'don't get hit',” Athonis griped.

Thor laughed. “Not everyone is as comfortable in armor as you, Athonis. Nor is the image of a heavily-armored priest comforting.”

“It would be comforting if I wanted them to survive,” muttered Athonis.

Thor decided to change the subject by beginning a song. Halfway through the first verse, Athonis joined in. The caravaner joined in on the second verse. Steve apparently didn't know the words, because it took five verses before he joined in on the chorus. “If you are the type who is more a sinner than a sinned / You'll find it all in Morrowind / Whatever your odd needs: feathered, scaled, or finned / You'll find it all in Morrowind...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:  
> Thor War-Kin - Thor Odinson  
> Jeanne Fostierre - Dr. Jane Foster
> 
> Changes inspired by mods:  
> One of the options in the Morrowind Overhaul pack (not sure of the plugin name) is to add NPCs who do more than wander aimlessly: some sit with begging bowls, some actually use those fishing poles lying around everywhere, and some write on scrolls.
> 
> Books:  
> [Fighters Guild Charter](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Fighters_Guild_Charter)  
> [A Less Rude Song](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:A_Less_Rude_Song) \- combined two "chorus" lines, since there isn't an actual chorus


	11. The Kwama, the Witch, and the Egg Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pleasant walk en route to violence is interrupted by more violence, and Thor gives Steve some adventuring tips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: more non-graphic violence, organic corpse disposal
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.

_Flesh revenants, or 'zombies' as they are often called in the West, are known as 'bonewalkers' in Morrowind. Magic preserves the bonewalker's fleshy remains along with the bones and spirit. Bonewalkers are readily identified by the sharp protuberances of bone and metal employed in the rituals that bind them to this plane._  
-Legions of the Dead

 

Between Thor, Athonis, and the caravaner, they managed to remember or make up enough song verses to take up the rest of the trip to Khuul. Khuul was a small fishing village whose most significant feature was that you could obtain transport there by both boat and silt strider. Fortune seekers of all types also knew that the area contained several Daedric shrines and smuggler's caves. Today though Thor, Athonis, and Steve were investigating another type of hole in the ground: one inhabited by man-sized insects, insects smaller than dogs, and the people who collected their eggs for a living.

After disembarking from the silt strider, Steve consulted his journal for more detailed directions. “Kaye said that the Asha-Ahhe Egg Mine was east of Ashalmawia and south of Khuul.”

Thor had visited several kwama egg mines during his duties for the Fighters Guild. Kwama eggs were a staple of Vvardenfell cuisine, and were a major export outside the province, to even as far away as the Imperial City. Thor didn’t think they tasted good enough to justify shipping them halfway across the continent, but he wasn’t someone who purchased things simply because they were expensive.

“Asha-Ahhe?” said the caravaner. “I heard the mine was haunted, and I don't know if that's true, but I do know there are renegade Ashlanders camping near there. Be careful, friend. No disrespect intended, Grandmaster, Sir Knight.”

“We appreciate the warning, friend,” Thor told him. Athonis nodded in agreement, and passed the caravaner a few coins before the caravaner started making arrangements to load up the cargo bound for Ald'ruhn.

Steve thanked the caravaner, then looked south at the steep terrain next to the silt strider port. “Seeing as how we all have two legs, not six, we're not going south.”

“It's not worth flying over, and there are three of us,” Athonis said. Sometimes Thor envied mages who could levitate using their own magic, without using potions or enchantments, but then he remembered that flying also made it easier for cliff racers to see you. Athonis continued, “It's an egg mine; there will be a path to it. Let's start walking.”

They rounded a bend in the road away from Khuul, and saw a kwama worker as big as a man standing in front of a cave door. Thor had journeyed all across Vvardenfell, so he recognized the presence of the worker form of the kwama colony insect as a sign that the door lead to an egg mine. And this egg mine was south of Khuul. However, despite this location fitting the description they’d been given, Thor called for Steve to halt before he could open the door.

“This is not the Asha-Ahhe Egg Mine, friend Steve.” Thor pointed at the sign proclaiming this to be the Panud Egg Mine. “Cheer up. This is fine weather for a walk.”

The road led east, through hills less steep than the ones near Balmora, though the boulders and plant life were similar. The occasional animal life was less friendly. Athonis was favoring his axe over his magic today, which Thor approved of. Before Thor could start a discussion on the various merits of hammers, axes, and swords, Steve called a greeting to a group of Dunmer sitting around a campfire.

The four Dunmer, all males, stood up. “Surrender your life to me and I will end your pain!” cried one of them as he charged with a spear. Two of the others were drawing their bows, and the fourth picked up an axe. Athonis sent a spray of ice needles at the spearmer's face with his left hand and electrocuted both archers with his right, causing their first shots to miss wildly. Thor stepped forward and brought his warhammer down on the spearmer. He didn't need to swing again.

The axemer had gone for Steve, who blocked blows with his shield while cutting his opponent down to size with his sword. He was not an expert swordsman, but was holding his own, so Thor charged at one of the archers, both of whom had recovered from Athonis' shock attack and resumed firing.

Athonis walked towards the archer Thor wasn't blocking his line of sight to, sending burst after burst of electricity to ground itself in the renegade's body. He didn't need to use his axe. The second archer tried to back away from Thor and keep shooting, but slipped on a boulder and met the same fate as the spearmer.

Thor turned back and saw that Steve had defeated his opponent and was cleaning his sword on the dead mer's shirt. “Was this a private party?” Steve asked.

“They were renegade Ashlanders,” Thor told him. “They were cast out from their tribe and now wait along roads to prey on travelers. Sometimes they take hostages for ransom. From what I just saw, they should not be much trouble for you. I have also come across triads of Ashlander women wielding powerful magic, and they are deadly opponents to those who do not take precautions.”

“These guys usually don't have much worth looting,” added Athonis. “but we might as well look anyway. And by we I mean you, Steve.”

Thor waited politely while Steve looked through the corpses' inventories for anything useful, then moved on to the camp proper. The camp consisted of a fire, a wooden chest, and several bottles of some useless liquid. Thor wasn't sure why anyone would bother drinking something without any alchemical effects. He'd take some mead or sujamma over this stuff any day. Steve finished his survey quickly, and the trio returned to the road, which now headed south.

Several turns in the road later, they saw another kwama worker in front of another cave door. The signpost outside this one confirmed that it was the egg mine they were looking for. The Dunmer commoners making their living as egg miners inside warned them of eerie happenings by the underground lake, and to be careful. Athonis took point heading through the narrow tunnels, followed by Steve, and Thor took up the rear.

They passed a couple of the peaceful, man-sized, four-limbed, brown-and-pink kwama workers who tended the eggs, and a few more of the peaceful pale lavender larval form of kwama known as scribs. The scribs were each smaller than a dog, segmented, and multi-limbed. Steve killed a few scribs and collected their jelly, which was used to make potions that cured blight diseases. Athonis killed a few of the hostile annoyances known as kwama foragers, which could best be described as small squishy orange cones. They could be found all across Vvardenfell, but every egg mine had at least one. Thor wasn’t sure how kwama foragers survived long enough to scout out new colony locations, which he’d been told was their role, since they attacked anything that smelled funny to them.

As they passed another glowing cluster of kwama egg sacks, Thor hoped this witch would put up enough of a fight to make both of them accompanying Steve worth it. He needn't have worried. Not long after passing a break in the tunnel wall that allowed them to see the lake below, they found the witch, her apprentice, and a Nord man. Thor rushed to the front of the group as soon as he heard a Nordic accent announce, “I will bathe in your blood!”

“It will be your blood here, not mine,” Thor answered, and brought down his hammer. Impressively, the Nord only fell to his knees instead of being killed outright. Thor felt his enemy's strength temporarily enhancing his own, unusual since most opponents died before his hammer's enchantment could take effect, as he lifted his hammer and brought it down again, and again, until he didn't need to anymore. Some would say that that was not an honorable enchantment, but then Thor did not often fight honorable opponents. He would take every advantage he could when opposing evil.

While Thor dealt with the Nord, Athonis and Steve dodged around them, headed towards the witch. Thor heard two people cast summoning spells, followed by a bonewalker’s war cries and someone or something casting destructive magic. A few seconds later, he heard a summoned creature be forcibly disconnected from the mortal plane, but destructive magic kept being cast, so the vocal bonewalker hadn’t been banished.

Once his opponent was crushed, Thor rushed after Athonis and Steve. He saw Steve first, holding off the blows of the apprentice’s staff with his shield like an experienced adventurer, though his swordwork hadn’t improved in the past half-hour. Athonis was standing unmoving a few paces past his hireling’s fight, likely too cursed to to move. The bonewalker was still making noise with its voice and its curses, not smart enough to stop cursing Athonis once he stopped moving.

The witch had retreated towards the lake, behind a stalagmite to prevent Athonis from using magic against her. She couldn’t go much farther, though, because Thor could hear the squeals of the great kwama queen not far away, and the kwama warriors, which resembled bipedal kwama workers, would not tolerate strange-smelling intruders in the queen’s lair. Judging that the witch’s magic was too depleted to summon another bonewalker, Thor banished it with one hammer swing and went after the witch. She greeted him with a fireball.

Thor used the same stalagmite for cover from the witch’s magic that the witch had used for protection from Athonis. Behind him, the strike of wooden staff against metal shield had stopped, and someone was casting a healing spell. It was bad tactics to stand in one place and heal yourself with spells while your enemies were in attack range, so Thor kept his focus on the witch in front of him instead of turning to confirm her apprentice was defeated.

Steve rushed past Thor, surprising the witch, and smashed his shield into the witch to interrupt her casting. Now that he was no longer in danger of being ignited, Thor swiftly joined Steve and slew the witch with one hammer blow.

“That was invigorating,” said Thor. “I was not expecting this much of a fight. I do believe you could have handled the witch by herself, but powerful villains often surround themselves with weaker assistants, and you would not have fared well against all of them at once.”

Steve nodded. “I'll be more cautious in the future. Thanks for your help, Grandmaster.”

“You may call me Thor. You have the makings of a great warrior in you, and I look forward to fighting alongside you in the future.”

Athonis walked up then, having restored his ability to move. Thor, since he did not have much skill in magic, carried potions to reverse a bonewalker’s curse, but Athonis was mage enough that he prefered to undo the curse damage with a spell. “Thank you for your help, Thor. Do you see anything on the bodies you want?”

Thor graciously declined. If he'd been alone, he might have searched the bodies for potions, scrolls, jewelry, and expensive clothing, but he was quite rich and Athonis' hireling could use the loot more than he could. As Thor had expected, after his refusal Athonis told Steve to search the bodies for anything useful, though Athonis himself searched the witch first, coming up with a journal.

“Her name was Thelsa Dral,” Athonis said after paging through the journal for a few minutes. “Her apprentice was an ex-healer named Gulena Girith and the Nord was named Haakan. Considering how she refers to him, I'm surprised she bothered to write down his name. He was lucky you came along, Thor. Dral and Girith were planning to use his 'essence' in a ritual to increase their own power.”

Thor grimaced. “Indeed.”

Steve finished looting the bodies, and then they stripped all three of the corpses completely and dumped them in the lake. Hopefully the slaughterfish population was high enough to consume the bodies before they rotted.

Thor warned Steve not to enter the queen’s lair without need, since the warriors could cast spells. That had surprised him the first time he’d encountered that kwama type, since in all the known races spellcasting ability was associated with intelligence, and no other type of kwama displayed behavior one would consider intelligent. Steve simply tilted his helmeted head to the side and said, “Huh,” before thanking Thor for the information.

The trio retraced their steps to the mine entrance, which was more peaceful heading out due to Athonis killing the kwama foragers along their route heading in. The egg miner who had warned them before was happy to hear that the witch was dead, and gave each of them some freshly collected kwama eggs as thanks.

***

They took the silt strider from Khuul to Ald'ruhn, where Thor disembarked, probably to look for his lover in the Mages Guild. Athonis and Steve kept riding the silt strider south to Balmora.

Athonis instructed Steve on what groceries Steve needed to buy, then headed home. He was not happy about the way the Imperial Cult was handling dangerous missions. The cult and the legion were supposed to have a close partnership, with the cult providing spiritual guidance and healing to the legions, and the legions providing protection to cult members whose spiritual journeys got them in physical trouble. But instead of handing off the dangerous assignments to the nearest legion outpost, this Kaye person was giving the assignments to Steve.

Athonis was not going to let that continue. The next lay servant to receive a dangerous assignment might get killed because they didn't have backup or combat experience.

He wrote a report of the fight in Asha-Ahhe Egg Mine, finishing with his estimate of how many legion troopers would have been needed to take down the witch and her associates, and how many casualties would result. He then noted that the assignment had originally been given to a single Imperial Cult lay servant with no formal combat training. Athonis made a copy of the report, and wrote a letter to the clerk at Fort Moonmoth with orders to make a copy to send to each of the Knight Protectors on Vvardenfell. The original went in his personal records.

Steve wasn't home yet, so Athonis walked across the river to the silt strider port and found a beggar willing to carry his report and letter to the fort, for a fee. Steve appeared from the direction of the market as the beggar exited the city's south gateway.

“Do you want to cook again, or shall I buy us dinner?” Athonis asked him once Steve was in conversation range. It was approaching dusk, and they hadn't eaten more than travel food all day.

“Dinner sounds good. I'm too hungry to cook right now,” Steve said, so Athonis led them into the Lucky Lockup for meat pies. There might have been rat in the pies, but they were tasty, so Athonis let it slide, and had seconds. Steve had seconds and thirds.

They were too interested in stuffing their faces to talk, which was good. Athonis wanted to discuss the Imperial Cult with Steve in private, not in a tavern full of Thieves Guild associates. It was stupid for Thieves Guild members to hang out next to the Council Club, a Cammonna Tong hangout, when a gang war between the two factions was about to explode, but Thieves Guild members were known more for their luck than their caution.

After dinner, they returned to Athonis' house. Athonis removed his armor, sat down at his writing desk, and had Steve do the same.

“I will be screening your missions for the Imperial Cult from now on,” Athonis informed Steve after they were both seated.

Steve nodded calmly. “That is your right.”

Athonis was surprised Steve wasn't arguing. “The legion is supposed to protect the cult,” he explained. “We can't do that if they don't tell us when they need armed backup. They say their faith will protect them, but I've seen plenty of people faith didn't protect, and I will not allow a faction that is supposedly an ally be party to endangering the people I am sworn to protect.” He took a deep, calming breath. “Tomorrow you and I will go talk to the person who gave you the assignment. I've already sent a report on Asha-Ahhe to the other forts, so tomorrow morning I will catch up on paperwork at Fort Moonmoth, and in the afternoon we'll go to Ebonheart.”

Steve nodded in acquiescence, penitent inferior to superior. “I didn't realize the assignment violated custom. I am sorry for allowing my ignorance to lead me into error.”

That sounded like temple-talk to Athonis, though he appreciated the sentiment in theory. “Don't worry, Steve. You asked me about the proper procedure as soon as you realized there might be a conflict, which shows a desire to vanquish your own ignorance.” He smiled at Steve. “I still find your character pleasing.” Accepting assignments without questioning them was an error which usually brought its own punishment. Athonis saw no need to mete out the punishment that fate had not seen fit to provide.

Steve smiled back, his posture easing out of a tension Athonis hadn't noticed before Steve relaxed. He hadn’t realized Steve was that worried about Athonis being upset. Maybe he should have spoken to Steve sooner, if Steve was that sensitive to Athonis’ moods.

“Now, let's work on your armor again.” Once they had relocated to a workbench and Steve had gotten into the rhythm of beating out dents, Athonis commented idly, “You're very good with a shield. What do you think about getting a better one?”

“The one I have is legion surplus. It's fine.”

“It's the only piece of heavy armor you wear, and the only metallic one. Yes, I noticed that. Going native looks good on you, but you're using a piece of the empire as your primary defense. It stands out against the rest of your costume. I'm not a bard, but I think one could spin quite a yarn out of what that shield means to you.”

Steve put his hammer down. “I'm holding onto it because I haven't found a better one, yet, and I wasn't going to go buy another when the one I have works perfectly fine.”

Athonis hummed. “I suppose it will do while you're still fighting opponents on the level of renegade Ashlanders.” He would find Steve a new shield, and it would be better quality than surplus, and he was pretty sure Steve knew he was going to go looking and was resigned to it. Or maybe Steve knew now, in the same way Athonis knew how happy successful peace negotiations made his lover, that his most grandiose gifts were meant as tokens of love. Nerevar saw peace as proof his dream of “One Clan Under Moon and Star” could become reality, and though Dumac knew that dream was impossible, he was willing to give much to preserve that optimism, as long as it benefitted his people. Nerevar had been willing to accept those gifts of peace, though now Athonis wondered if Nerevar had known the intent behind Dumac’s gifts.

Steve picked his hammer up and continued to work on his armor. Athonis watched, offering a tip or a word of encouragement here and there. What Steve needed most was practice, but Athonis didn't have to make a master smith out of him.

By the time they both finished with their repairs, Steve had started yawning and Athonis was about to join him. On his own, he would have stayed awake longer and worked on one of his projects for several hours before sleeping. With Steve here, sleeping in his bed became a much more attractive pastime.

Tomorrow, he would face paperwork and the Faithful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books:  
> [Legions of the Dead](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Legions_of_the_Dead)


	12. My Brother's Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At an Imperial Legion fort, Steve has a spiritual realization, and a vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: minor character death (no one who has appeared so far), vision of death, religious attendance as punishment
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.

_"Aedra" and "Daedra" are not relative terms. They are Elvish and exact. Azura is a Daedra both in Skyrim and Morrowind. "Aedra" is usually translated as "ancestor," which is as close as Cyrodilic can come to this Elven concept. "Daedra" means, roughly, "not our ancestors." This distinction was crucial to the Dunmer, whose fundamental split in ideology is represented in their mythical genealogy._  
-Aedra and Daedra

_Simply put, the schism in the Human/Aldmeri worldview is the mortal's relationship to the divine. Humans take the humble path that they were created by the immortal forces, while the Aldmer claim descent from them._  
-The Monomyth

 

As he had since arriving on Vvardenfell, Steve dreamed of a sinister figure in a golden mask.

The next morning, Athonis woke him up to do stretches again, after which Athonis bemusedly allowed Steve to cook their breakfast. Today, Steve tried a recipe for saltrice and herbs. It turned out to be edible, if bland. Nerevar’s memories had not granted him cooking skill.

While Steve cooked, Athonis made several trips outside to magically extract several buckets of potable water from the river, since the house's water storage was getting low. When Steve asked, Athonis admitted that the water was probably safe to drink without magical purification, but after seeing all the things people dumped in the water in the Imperial City, he didn't trust city dwellers not to pollute their own drinking water. Steve could see his point.

After breakfast, they put on their armor and made their way west, south, and east to get to Fort Moonmoth southeast of the city. Inside, the legion healer, who'd sold Steve a healing spell the first time he'd visited, looked up from the book she was taking notes on just long enough to recognize Athonis and direct him towards the Imperial Cult chapel. “You really dumped the meat in the slaughterfish pond with that report you sent over,” she commented before going back to her studies.

Athonis didn't ask her for clarification, instead leading Steve past the great hall to the Imperial Cult area. There were several tradespeople with displays of their wares, separated from the chapel itself by a door.

“I have no idea why only one lay servant was assigned a task that difficult,” Steve heard an Imperial man's voice say as he drew closer. “Are you sure it wasn't a mistake?”

“It was definitely a mistake!” a Nord man replied. The door to the chapel was open and the voices were coming from inside. Steve hadn’t realized his assignment would cause arguments between the cult and the legion. They had only stopped here first so that Athonis could do paperwork, but it looked like the report had caused another problem for Athonis to fix.

A Bosmer apothecary, whose display was right outside the chapel door, brightened when he saw Athonis. “Greetings, Knight of the Imperial Dragon!” he said loudly. The voices inside the chapel went silent. “Sir Tarth, would you mind taking the argument somewhere else so I can mix my potions in peace?” asked the apothecary plaintively. Or maybe he wasn't being plaintive – it was hard to tell since the normal Bosmer voice range was higher in pitch than any other race.

“Of course,” said Athonis. “Gentlemen, perhaps we should take this downstairs?” He waited for an angry Nord wearing the red and gold legion cuirass of a Knight Protector and a confused Imperial priest to file out of the chapel, then added, “Good.” Athonis turned around and led the group downstairs to the legion offices adjoining the barracks.

Athonis sat down at a desk and removed his helmet, gesturing at Steve to stay standing and helmeted. Steve took a position behind Athonis, on his left side, as befitted his current role as guard furniture. The legion officer and the priest remained standing as well.

“Radd,” Athonis said to the officer, “I commend your diligence in pursuing supplemental information, but I'm surprised you're treating a priest - who had nothing to do with the events I reported – like an agent withholding information. Have you been spending too much time drinking with Buoyant Armigers?”

Radd Hard-Heart shifted from angry to defensive. “That was a friendly competition, nothing more. Er. I apologize, Somutis,” he said to the priest. “I let my – what's that word you cult types like to use? - my zeal get away from me.”

“And?” Athonis said expectantly.

“And I'll attend chapel services more often instead of drinking,” Radd sighed.

“At least once a week, for two months,” Athonis said, then turned to the priest who had started to look smug. “Now, Somutis, I have a few questions for you.”

The smugness vanished. “I don't know why your hireling was sent on a dangerous mission. I don't know anything about-”

“Somutis,” Athonis interrupted. “Are you volunteering for a class in resisting interrogation?”

The priest gulped. “No.”

“Then wait until I ask you a question before you answer it.” Athonis' voice was dead calm as he questioned the priest. “Does the cult send lay servants to fight things... say, more dangerous than a nix-hound?”

“Sometimes. If an item has been lost in the wilderness, a shrine sergeant would be sent out to retrieve it, and they might have to defend themselves against wild animals.”

“How does the cult know where to find those lost items?”

“Usually the oracle has a vision that shows the general area.”

“How does the cult determine what hazards there are in the area?”

The priest fidgeted. “Sometimes the oracle's vision warns of additional dangers.”

“And you don't ask anyone for more information than was in the visions.”

“No?” The priest seemed to know that was the wrong answer to give Athonis, but not why. “It's a matter of faith, Sir Tarth. I wouldn't expect you to under-” Somutis cut himself off at Athonis' raised hand.

“Are lay servants sent to lay restless spirits to rest?” Athonis began another line of questioning.

“No. They don't have the proper training.” Inside his helmet, Steve frowned. Did that mean that the ghost he'd put down would come back? All he'd done was hit it with his sword until it dissolved into a puddle of ectoplasm, which wasn't a very spiritual act in the Imperial sense. In a Chimer sense, the act was interaction with a spirit, but very disrespectful. On the other hand, it was an unquiet Dunmer spirit, so perhaps it would be better to have the Temple perform any soothing rites. Imperial rites might permanently disrupt the connection between the spirit and any of its descendants, which Steve wasn't prepared to wish on them over what might be a simple misunderstanding.

“Thank you, Somutis. You may return to your duties,” Athonis dismissed the priest.

“Sir Tarth, lay servants know missions might be dangerous. They volunteer anyway.”

“Why are we here, Somutis?” As the priest opened his mouth, Athonis added, “The legion and the cult, I mean,” cutting off what Steve expected would have been a platitude about glorifying the Divines.

Somutis sighed at being cut off. “To assimilate Morrowind into the Empire by representing the best values of Imperial culture.”

“That's why the cult is here,” Athonis corrected him. “The legion is here to protect imperial citizens. All imperial citizens, including lay servants. When the cult sends a lay servant out to get killed, they are a threat to my people.” By the end of this explanation, Athonis was practically growling.

Somutis' mouth formed a small 'oh' of comprehension. “Understood, Sir Tarth. I think if you explain that in Ebonheart, they will be willing to cooperate with this shift in responsibility. Your predecessor was... well. More interested in his rank than his oaths. No offense, Radd.”

Radd Hard-Heart had been observing the interrogation quietly. He shook his head. “It's the truth, there's no offense in that. I have no respect for a man who preserved his position while ignoring the needs of his protectorate, even if that man is dead.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence. Now, Radd, if you don't have any questions about my report, I might as well get caught up on paperwork.”

“Aye. I'll send a clerk over.”

The priest and the officer went back up to ground level, leaving Athonis with a short stack of paperwork. Athonis put his helmet back on and gave Steve permission to stop standing guard. Steve wandered back upstairs and bought some more adventuring supplies. He stopped outside the chapel.

He'd considered himself a worshiper of the Divines for his entire life... his entire human life. Nerevar had not worshiped the Divines, and thinking about worshiping the Aedra as if he were a decadent, purity-obsessed Altmer made Steve's stomach churn. To thrive in the mortal plane, one could not remain unchanging, as the Altmer tried to do with their strict adherence to tradition and a single ideal. To stay the same was to die, as the Aedra had died. The Chimer, the Changed Ones, followed the mutable and immortal Daedra, who were strong spirits still worthy of worship. The Aedra were weak, and the Chimer had found more worthy ancestor spirits to follow. He couldn't go in there and pray to gods part of him did not believe were worthy of worship... but he did owe one a goodbye, if such spirits even listened to prayers.

_Stendarr, thank you for the shelter of your temple while I was growing up, but I cannot in good conscience continue to pray to an Aedra now that I remember what it is like to serve a real goddess._

Before he could rise, Steve was struck by a vision of the Imperial City. He saw Janus and Peggia, looking just as they had when he'd last seen them. He saw an angry mob. He saw Janus and Peggia refusing an order to fire on the mob. He saw the mob overrun them. He saw other legionnaires fire on the mob, and then the vision ended.

Tears ran down Steve's face. Azura had granted Nerevar visions sometimes, and this felt like a vision, not a hallucination. But usually Azura spoke through the visions She sent, and Steve had not heard Her voice this time. Would Stendarr have given him a vision? Would He have done so to punish Steve for refusing to pray to Him? More importantly, was this something that had already happened, or could it be changed?

Steve went to the great hall. “Sir Knight, have you heard of any riots in the Imperial City?”

“Aye,” said Radd. “There are rumors that the emperor's heirs were replaced by duplicates while the Imperial Battlemage held their father captive, and some people demanded the duplicates be destroyed. The legion had to fire on a few crowds when they got violent, and a lot of people died.”

“Were any of those people legionnaires?”

“Yes.”

Steve bowed his head for a moment. Maybe it was already too late, but he had to know. “Do you know how much it would cost to write a letter to legion headquarters?”

Radd Hard-Heart patted Steve on the shoulder kindly. “If you fill out an information request form on the status of your friends, we can slip it in with the rest of the official mail. Won't cost a thing.”

“And you don't mind bending the rules like that?”

“I heard your story. You were sent here by the emperor on official business without any warning, advance intelligence, or supplies, and were lucky enough to get noticed by Sir Tarth as soon as you got off the boat. The way I see it, finding out if your friends are dead or alive is just common decency, considering how much the empire has inconvenienced you.”

Steve was moved by Radd's kindness. “Thank you, Sir Knight. I'll do that.”

By the time Steve filled out status request forms for Pelagia Carteria and Janus Barius, with the clerk's help, Athonis had finished with his paperwork. Athonis asked why Steve was filling out those forms, and Steve choked up, so Athonis tugged him into one of the storage towers for some privacy, sat Steve on a box, and had him remove his helmet.

“What's wrong, Steve?” Athonis asked, metal-covered fingers gently touching the tear-tracks on Steve's face.

“I think my friends are dead. There was a riot in the Imperial City, and I was in the chapel, and I had a vision-”

“Wait. You had a vision in the chapel?”

“I know when I'm having a vision, Athonis,” Steve informed him. “I just don't know if it was punishment for refusing to pray to Stendarr.”

Athonis was silent for a moment, absorbing this. “Isn't that supposed to be the god of mercy?”

“...Yes.” Now that Athonis reminded Steve of that, punishing someone for making an unfavorable comparison between Stendarr and Azura by killing their friends did seem unlikely for a god of mercy. Especially when the god was the patron of the legion, and the friends were legionnaires. “Right. So my friends haven't died because of something I did.”

“And the forms are to find out if the vision is accurate,” Athonis concluded.

Steve nodded. “I think it's already happened, though. Radd Hard-Heart said people have died in riots in the Imperial City.” He felt tears threatening again. “I'll never see them again.”

Athonis pulled him into an armor-against-armor hug, and let Steve sob for a few minutes. Then he produced a handkerchief. Steve stared at him and then laughed in disbelief. “I am required to carry this. Knightly regulations,” Athonis insisted.

Steve blew his nose and replaced his helmet. They both bought more handkerchiefs from the fort's vendors before walking back to Balmora.

***

One teleport from Balmora to Vivec and two staircases later, Athonis demonstrated an alternate method of descent from the top level of a canton. “You just balance on top of the ledge here, and then slide down. Like this.” Athonis fell down the angled wall of the canton and onto the mid-level walkway, making a three-point landing. Nobody paid attention to the heavily armored warrior jumping over the ledge or falling from the upper levels. Athonis waved up at Steve for him to try now.

When Steve seemed hesitant to follow, Athonis waved a healing potion at him. Steve rolled his eyes behind his helmet. “This is insane,” he muttered, before jumping onto the ledge and taking one step forward. The fall was quick, and Steve made a four-point landing, but he didn't break anything either. “I can't believe that's safe,” Steve said. Now that he knew he could survive, it _had_ been more fun than the ramps...

“It works,” Athonis shrugged. “Come on, we never got around to trying the fire resin saltrice the last time we were here.”

They went to the Black Shalk Cornerclub for lunch. When Steve asked about the thugs who'd been there a few days ago, the publican told him they'd left after the grandmaster of the Fighters Guild had come in for a drink. “It's good to have somebody like that come by once and a while, chase off anybody who makes the other customers uncomfortable,” the publican opined.

“Keep serving sujamma and he'll keep coming around,” Athonis said to the publican.

“Fine with me. Just don't help him celebrate anything again. I don't want to run out. Do you know how embarrassing it is to run a cornerclub that doesn't offer sujamma? Three weeks is how long it took me to replenish my stocks.”

“You should probably have words with your suppliers, if they can't adjust to changes in demand. But I'm more in the mood for your house specialty.”

“Oh? Yes, that's fine. I still have the ingredients for that. Be just a few minutes.”

Fire resin saltrice turned out to be a spicy rice dish. The twist was that one of the herbs granted the eater fire resistance, so the spices didn't burn their tongue. It was an interesting sensation, but still gave Steve an excuse to use a handkerchief.

After lunch, they left the traders’ level in the Foreign Quarter by a north exit, and jumped down to the lowest walkway, with a little more enthusiasm this time on Steve’s part. Athonis led north back onto solid ground, then east to the docks south of the silt strider port, where he hired a boat to take them to Ebonheart. They could have walked from Vivec to Ebonheart, but taking a boat was faster.

The docks of Ebonheart were stone, and usually had at least one off-duty imperial guard trying his luck fishing. Steve hadn't seen anything to catch here but slaughterfish, same as in the Imperial City, but he wasn't a fisherman. Fishing villages couldn't survive when there was nothing to catch, so there must be something edible in the water.

They walked through the main square, dominated by a great ebony dragon statue, past the wood-and-stone Six Fishes inn, up the stone stairs next to the Hawkmoth legion garrison, along the great stone causeway, through the atrium of Morrowind's Grand Council, and finally arrived at the door to the Imperial Cult Chapel. Steve was not sure why the headquarters of the Imperial Cult on Vvardenfell was so hard to get to, but it smacked of poor planning. The East Empire Company headquarters was right on the main square. Even the Nord and Argonian embassies were closer to the docks. Perhaps finding the chapel was the first test of an aspiring lay servant's tenacity.

Steve stopped Athonis before they entered the chapel. “Athonis, I don't think I'll be taking more Imperial Cult missions.”

Athonis turned to face him. “Because you don't trust them?” His helmet tilted inquisitively.

“Because I can't worship the Aedra anymore.”

“Oh.” Athonis sounded surprised, but that faded as he continued, “I suppose that makes sense. Are you going to start worshiping the Daedra then?” Athonis didn't sound upset, but he was a heathen, no matter which way Steve looked at it. Nerevar had tried to explain to Dumac how worshiping powers greater than themselves made the Chimer stronger, but Dumac seemed to think it made the Chimer weaker, and Nerevar had been unable to convince him otherwise. Athonis seemed just as impious as Dumac.

“Just one. I'm not sure about the others.” Azura was always interested in the welfare of Her people. Mephala and Boethiah, the other two so-called Good Daedra, were not. Steve wasn't comfortable worshiping the Imperial Cult pantheon, but he wasn't comfortable worshiping the entire Chimer pantheon either.

Athonis patted Steve's shoulder. That was happening a lot today. Maybe the legion attracted people who were awkward at offering physical comfort. “I'd suggest you talk to a priest about your spiritual concerns, but...” Athonis trailed off. It was difficult to imagine a priest who could help untangle Steve's situation. “Anyway, thank you for telling me this _before_ we went in there,” Athonis added sardonically.

Steve cheekily saluted and followed Athonis into the chapel.

Kaye, the Redguard man in charge of “the more dangerous assignments” was seated near the door, but stood up when he saw Steve enter. “Glad to see you made it back in one piece,” he said.

That was the wrong thing to say. “Then why did you give him that assignment?” Athonis growled. He did not remove his helmet, indicating that this was not a friendly visit.

Kaye was surprised and confused. “Sir Tarth? I gave him an assignment because he joined the cult and asked for one. He's completed all the tasks set to him so far, which is more than most lay servants do. Is it true, what happened in Vivec the other day? That Steve swore-”

“You shouldn't be sending lay servants to do legion work,” Athonis interrupted. “Putting down dangerous beings is work for trained professionals and seasoned adventurers, not silver-tongued herb collectors. There's no reason for you to send amateurs out to get themselves killed to prove their faith when there's an entire garrison of soldiers bored to tears from providing nobles with honor guards. I would consider it a favor if you would give them something to do other than get drunk and pick fights with Ordinators.”

Kaye blinked, then looked at the priestess seated near the altar. “Oracle?”

The oracle stood, her face serene. “I am glad the Nine brought you to Vvardenfell, Sir Tarth.” Only Steve was close enough to hear Athonis sigh. The oracle continued, “Kaye will give the more dangerous shrine sergeant assignments to the legion, as you have asked, but some tasks I will only give to someone who has sworn before the Nine to obey me without question.”

Athonis nodded slowly. “If someone is willing to swear that oath, I have no objection to you sending them to die,” he said.

The oracle shook her head at him sadly, but said nothing. Perhaps she knew she'd be wasting her breath.

Kaye turned to Steve. “So, the witch is dead? Good. Here, take this ring. It might help you out of a tight spot in the future.”

Kaye handed Steve a magic ring, which Athonis grabbed from Steve’s hand before he could examine it. Athonis laughed and put the ring back in Steve's hand. Now that he had a chance to look at it, Steve saw the ring would do minor fire damage to someone in touching distance – not useful when fighting Dunmer, who were resistant to fire, or if you knew how to use a weapon that could do more than minor damage. Steve was polite enough not to laugh, though, and thanked Kaye.

Kaye glared at Athonis, then turned to Steve. “Are you ready for another assignment?”

“No,” Steve answered simply.

Kaye was surprised, since Steve had always asked for another assignment when reporting success with the last one. To Athonis, Kaye said, “I'll send a note over to Hawkmoth with the assignments, now that it's okay to ask the legion for help.”

Athonis nodded. “You should send to the Temple to deal with that ghost in Caldera, too. They know how to deal with unquiet Dunmer spirits without upsetting their descendants.”

Kaye looked at the oracle again, who simply nodded. “I'll do that,” he said. “Anything else?”

“If something comes up, I'll let you know,” Athonis assured him. “Good day, Redguard.”

“Divines smile on you, Sir Tarth.”

“Mephala cloak you,” Athonis replied as he stepped out the door. Steve quickly followed him as everyone in the chapel made warding signs at the mention of a Daedric Prince.

“Athonis, why did you say that? You don't even worship Mephala.”

“They don't know that. And I don't worship the Nine, either, but that didn't stop them from giving credit for my work to the Nine Divines.”

“So that's why you don't like the chapels.”

“I'm tired of being talked down to. Did you see any Dunmer there, or even any elves? Doesn't that tell you something?”

Steve hadn't noticed that, and he'd been in and out of that chapel quite a few times. “Thanks, Athonis.”

“You're welcome. What are you thanking me for?”

“Perspective.”

They walked away from the chapel in comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books:  
> [Aedra and Daedra](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Aedra_and_Daedra)  
> [The Monomyth](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:The_Monomyth)  
> [Special Flora of Tamriel](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Special_Flora_of_Tamriel)


	13. Journey to Sadrith Mora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long boat ride, too many cliff racers, and another failure to discuss Steve and Athonis' relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: discussion of slavery
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.
> 
> ETA 1/26/2014: Fixed Angaredhel the prefect's race, since he's not actually an Altmer.

_House Indoril and House Dres are the two Great Houses without holdings or interest in Vvardenfell. Indoril District occupies the heartland of Morrowind, comprising the lands south of the Inner Sea and the eastern coast. The city of Almalexia is located in Indoril District, and the Indoril are orthodox and conservative supporters of the Temple and Temple authority. House Indoril is openly hostile to Imperial culture and religion, and preserves many traditional Dunmer customs and practices in defiance of Imperial law. Dres District is in the south of Morrowind, bordering the swamps and marshes of Black Marsh. House Dres is an agrarian agricultural society, and its large saltrice plantations rely completely on slave labor for their economic viability. Always firm Temple supporters, House Dres is hostile to Imperial law and culture, and in particular opposed to any attempts to limit the institution of slavery._  
-Great Houses of Morrowind

 

They stopped at the Hawkmoth legion garrison on the way back to the docks. Athonis needed to clarify a few things things about the new arrangement with the Imperial Cult with the Knight Protector in charge of the garrison. Since Steve now had enough gold to pay back Captain Rhodes for the sword training he'd given him at the Seyda Neen office complex, Steve left the payment and a note with the garrison clerk. Rhodes was still away on business, but his payment would be waiting for him whenever he got back, regardless of what happened to Steve later.

Once their business with the legion was complete, they did not go back to Vivec as Steve had expected. Instead, Athonis made arrangements for passage to Sadrith Mora, the most populous settlement in Telvanni territory. Sadrith Mora was on the east coast, about a third of the way around Vvardenfell from Ebonheart, which was on the southwestern coast.

Athonis agreed to kill any cliff racers that got too interested in the ship in exchange for the use of a bedroll fastened to the deck, since it would take about half a day to sail that far. Cliff racers were lizard-like flying creatures with a wingspan wider than an average human’s height, long sharp beaks, and lashing tails. They attacked pretty much anything on sight, and could fly faster than a ship could sail or a person could run. Fortunately, they were only a nuisance to someone with combat training. Unfortunately, they were a nuisance present almost everywhere on Vvardenfell and the surrounding small islands, including along the ship’s route.

While they waited for the crew to make ready to sail, Athonis sat down on the bedroll while still in his armor and taught Steve a basic fireball spell. “The most important thing,” Athonis told him, “is to not burn down the ship. You're going to miss a lot, everyone does at first, and that's fine, as long as you don't set the mast or the rigging or the crew on fire.”

Steve carefully walked to the ship's rail and tried to cast a fireball at the water. Nothing happened. He tried again, and again, and when he actually succeeded it was a surprise. Athonis called to him to keep practicing, and lay down on top of the bedroll in his armor. Steve didn't see the point of sleeping on something soft when you were covered in something hard. Wouldn't the deck be just as comfortable?

He paused his practice as the ship made its way out of the harbor. He was still unlikely to succeed in creating anything dangerous on any given cast, but anyone he did succeed in hitting was unlikely to congratulate him on his progress. Once they were away from the harbor traffic, Steve continued attempting to incinerate the sea. Steve was getting the impression that Nerevar hadn't been very much of a spellcaster, even though nowadays the Dunmer race had a reputation for producing skilled combat mages, such as the one taking a nap a few paces away from him.

After less than an hour of practice, Steve's magical reserves were emptied. He decided to test how comfortable the deck next to Athonis' bedroll was while wearing armor.

***

On the way to Red Mountain, Nerevar had a private audience with Natasa, heir of Great House Dres, about the recent expansion of the slave trade. The long years of peace with the Dwemer had allowed House Dres to capitalize on their position on the border with the Argonian homeland by sending raiding parties to capture the lizard-people for sale in Morrowind.

Nerevar said, “Natasa, I fear for the future of your House. What your merchants are trading in is dangerous.”

“Not if you know what you're doing. If you break a slave to your will, they can be more trustworthy than free mer,” replied Natasa.

“Perhaps if you devoted as much time to making friends as you have to dominating others, that would change. Do you wish to depend on the strength of slaves more than the strength of free mer? Because that is where the path of trading slaves will lead.”

Natasa considered it. “Perhaps there is wisdom in your words. Very well. By the Moon-and-Star, I swear that once the Dwemer are dealt with, I will help you abolish slavery.”

“Thank you, Natasa,” Nerevar smiled at her briefly. “We will reach Red Mountain tomorrow. I still hope Dumac can be convinced to see reason.”

Natasa looked at him with pity. “You are the only one who still hopes for peace, Lord Indoril.”

Neither Indoril Nerevar nor Dres Natasa survived the Battle of Red Mountain.

***

Steve woke up uncomfortable, but at least he hadn't dreamed of the figure in the golden mask again. Athonis had moved from the bedroll to the bow, and was casually converting a cliff racer into slaughterfish food, one small fireball at a time. The cliff racer's screams were what had woken Steve up. Steve attempted to cast at the cliff racer, and actually succeeded in creating a fireball, but it missed, flying up into the sky instead.

“Keep trying,” Athonis told him, but the cliff racer died before Steve could produce another fireball. It fell into the sea with a splash.

The sun was setting, but Steve saw a ruddy figure moving under the water towards the corpse. The figure's arms were oddly proportioned and there were twice as many legs as there should be, but it seemed oddly human for a sea dwelling creature. The slaughterfish swam away from it. That was proof enough for Steve that it wasn't a man or mer. Nerevar's memories suggested it was a dreugh, a sea-dwelling creature with a hide tough enough to make into armor, if you could manage to kill it. And didn't mind armor that made you look like a blushing mudcrab.

Athonis sat down, on watch for the next cliff racer. Steve sat down next to him. He didn't feel like having another dream this soon.

“Who are we meeting in Sadrith Mora?” Steve asked Athonis.

“A friend of mine in the Mages Guild there. He and I collaborate on projects sometimes, like that magical compass I mentioned. If we're lucky, my friend in the Morag Tong will be around, too.”

“So you have friends in the Fighters Guild, the Mages Guild, the Morag Tong, and you're in the Imperial Legion yourself. Is there any faction you don't have a friend in?”

Athonis thought about it. “House Redoran. The Temple, the Ordinators, and the Buoyant Armigers. The devout, I guess. And the Cammonna Tong, but they hate all outlanders. And the Ashlanders. I would say the Imperial Cult, but you joined, so that's not true anymore.”

“But I'm not working for the Imperial Cult anymore.”

“Steve, most people who join the Imperial Cult do that to get a member discount on services. You're a member until you get expelled... I suppose you could ask them to expel you, but I don't see the point.”

Part of Steve was appalled that people would sign up to be lay servants and then not actually serve. Another part was reminded of how Dumac put religious beliefs in economic terms: the worshiper puts this amount of effort in for that amount of benefit, this ritual gained popularity over that ritual because it required less effort for greater rewards. That sort of callous analysis found the lay servants' behavior easy to understand, though it did not justify the behavior to Steve. A holy shrine was not a market stall where one might purchase goods, and religious rituals were not business contracts. Treating them like that was an obscenity.

“Oh, look,” said Athonis, interrupting Steve's thoughts again. “More target practice.” A cliff racer gliding around the natural rock pillars jutting up from underwater had noticed the ship and screamed its distinctive challenge as it flew straight for them.

Steve actually hit it with a fireball this time, but one hit didn't convince the beast to turn back. That might have something to do with how small its brain was. Athonis lobbed another few spells in its direction, and another cliff racer succumbed to the waves.

“Better,” said Athonis. “How's your reservoir?”

Steve was almost out of spell energy and starting to get a headache from attempting to cast the same spell over and over. When he told Athonis, he was given permission to use the bedroll. Somehow it was more comfortable than the deck, even in armor.

The sun had set and the moons were climbing the sky. Steve closed his eyes to the beautiful night sky, but resolutely kept himself from falling asleep again. The screaming cliff racers and explosive fireballs every few minutes helped with that. It was easy to keep his eyes closed through it all when he knew Athonis was on guard.

After a few hours of rest, Steve's headache had subsided enough, and his magical reservoir replenished enough, to continue practice. It was after midnight by the position of the moons, and the cliff racers still hadn't given up. Steve joined Athonis at the rail again. He was now equally as likely to create a fireball as not, which was a substantial improvement.

In between fending off the wildlife, Athonis tried to instruct Steve in the manipulation of elemental destructive forces. Unfortunately, Athonis was not as good at teaching beginner's magical theory as he was at teaching beginner's armor repair, and both he and Steve were relieved to be interrupted. After the third interruption, Athonis gave up, apologized, and tried to explain.

“It's been so long since I've had to think about what forces I'm invoking instead of just casting the spell. My first magical tutor was hired because I kept setting the nursery curtains on fire.” Athonis chuckled to himself. “One of the servants told me years later that one of my nannies quit because she was convinced I was a baby daedra.”

Steve imagined an ash-skinned, pointy-eared, red-eyed toddler smiling as he set fire to everything in reach. Yes, he could see how someone could get the wrong impression. “I bet you were adorable,” Steve grinned inside his helmet.

“You're biased,” Athonis huffed, and threw a fireball at another cliff racer.

This cliff racer, a few fireballs worse for wear, flew full speed into a rock pillar, knocked itself unconscious, and slid down into the water. Steve hoped it drowned before the slaughterfish got to it. In the distance, Steve saw a small group of the tentacle-festooned floating gasbags called netch. They seemed more interested in their own concerns than in the ship, so Steve didn't bother casting at them.

Athonis passed Steve a potion labeled “Restore Magicka, Standard”, meaning that it would replenish a standard amount of magical energy, according to the Morrowind alchemical association's requirements. It was nice to know how much benefit you were going to get from a potion before you drank it, Steve thought. Except he didn't know how much the standard amount of magicka was. His reservoir was almost empty, though, so he put the potion into his inventory and absorbed it directly. Steve's small experience with potions before Morrowind taught him that they all tasted nasty, so being able to gain the benefits of a potion while preserving his tastebuds was a blessing.

The standard amount of magicka was more than enough to fill Steve's reservoir completely, which felt surprisingly good. He hadn't considered that empty feeling as something to be avoided until he was full again. Steve wondered if the sensation was more extreme for mages with larger reservoirs, and shivered.

“What do you think, Steve? Are you more interested in spellcasting now?” Athonis asked.

If he could actually create a fireball every time he tried, and he managed to hit his target most of the time, and he learned spells that would affect enemies that were resistant to different elemental forces... then he'd need to carry magicka potions everywhere, as well as a weapon for when he finally ran out of spell energy. It would be easier to just carry an enchanted weapon and not rely on spells at all – in fact, Steve was already doing that.

“No, not really. Thank you for teaching me the spell, though,” Steve replied.

“We'll see how you do with a bow, then. Your range shouldn't be limited to the length of your sword. I'm sure we can find someone in Sadrith Mora who offers marksmanship training. Telvanni like Bosmer retainers, and I think the Bosmer like living in organic buildings.” Bosmer, known as Wood Elves to humans, made the finest archers in all Tamriel. That didn’t necessarily make them the finest archery teachers in all Tamriel.

“Oh?” In Nerevar’s time, the Telvanni had constructed buildings in the same style as the other House Chimer. Steve was curious to see what they’d come up with that defied simple description.

“You'll see when we get there. And legally we have to buy Hospitality Papers if we want to speak to or do business with anyone in Sadrith Mora. Only the Altmer in charge of the papers actually cares about having them, but we might as well pay their petty little fee.”

Two cliff racers later, the sun was rising as the ship approached a settlement from the west. Steve recognized a blocky structure on the south side as an Imperial stone fort, but the rest of the buildings looked... lumpy. Then the ship reached the dock. It was not made of stone, or wood. It was a stalk reaching out from a large rock.

Athonis had paid the shipmaster before they’d departed Ebonheart, so they simply disembarked. The stalk supported their weight easily, but Steve was still happy to make it to rock. The path led to a huge circular stone door, bracketed by arching stairs made of the same material as the stalk. “The Gateway Inn,” Athonis announced with a flourish. “Do you need to sleep now?”

“No, not yet,” Steve said. Now that he thought about it, he'd been sleeping out of habit and because it helped order his thoughts, not because he was actually tired. Of all the things that had happened to him since arriving on Vvardenfell, it was the minor things that made him feel inhuman. Having the memories of an ancient hero was disturbing, but not actually needing to sleep... could come in handy, if that really was Dagoth Ur trying to control him through his dreams. Steve didn't know what he was, but it probably had something to do with stopping the Sixth House, whether or not he really was Nerevar reborn.

Athonis had taken a nap at the beginning of the voyage. Did he still need to sleep? Was he the Dwarfking reborn? Steve knew Athonis took his responsibility as a protector of Vvardenfell seriously, which was really the only answer Steve needed. Athonis was also prone to using violence as a solution, though he was far from alone in that regard, but he was equally prone to generosity.

“I don't need to sleep, but if you want to share a bed I'd be up for that,” Steve added. Having a reliable sex partner was something he'd like to get used to, and he didn't want to give Athonis the impression that his attentions were unwelcome. Athonis hadn't initiated anything since Steve had sworn himself into service, so he might be concerned about abusing his authority over Steve. Fortunately for Steve's libido, Athonis wasn't concerned enough about that to refuse to touch when invited.

Athonis led Steve up the stalk-sculpted steps. “I'm tempted, but... actually, it's only dawn. We can kill a couple hours until most people have woken up and had breakfast. Good idea, Steve.”

“Thanks.” It was a good thing Steve was wearing a helmet, because he was pretty sure the expression on his face was too silly to display in public.

They entered the Gateway and if Steve had ever wondered what a pub inside a giant mushroom pod would look like, now he knew. It was surprisingly well lit. Athonis walked over to an Dunmer sipping a cup of something steaming at one of the tables. “Good morning, prefect,” Athonis greeted him.

“Oh, I see you've decided to actually obey the regulations this time,” the prefect frowned. “The statute of limitations may have expired since your last flagrant display, but I'm watching you this time, and I'll haul you into court at the slightest sign of-”

Athonis placed a fifty-drake piece in front of the prefect. “Two sets of Hospitality Papers, if you please, Muthsera Master Mage-Lord Prefect of Hospitality.” Athonis' tone dripped with sarcasm.

The prefect hrmphed, but pocketed the payment and produced two pieces of parchment. “Names, occupations, and races?”

“Athonis Tarth, Knight of the Imperial Dragon, Dunmer. This is Steve, an Imperial adventurer.”

The prefect neatly filled in the blanks on the two pieces of parchment, cast a spell to dry the fresh ink immediately, and handed both sheets to Athonis. “Thank you, and enjoy your stay,” he said primly.

Athonis handed Steve one of the sheets and pocketed the other. Steve tried to read it but his eyes glazed over by the third paragraph. He wasn't a lawyer.

One brief conversation with the proprietor of the inn and a flight of stairs later, Steve found himself in a locked room with Athonis and a bed, theirs for the next day. Athonis had them unarmored and horizontal in moments. “Mm. I'm not used to having someone at my complete disposal,” Athonis murmured. Steve was sure this wasn't the right time or position to have a serious conversation. “Should I be scheduling time for sex?”

Okay, it wasn't a serious conversation. “Yes.”

“How often?”

How much could Steve reasonably ask for, considering Athonis' responsibilities? “Daily?” That was doable, right? Steve was going to be easily accessible until his debt was paid, so that should be doable.

Steve knew Dunmer eyes didn't actually glow with intense emotion, but Athonis' expression made up for that biological lack. “Done,” he said. Steve might have worried about striking a pact with dark powers, but Athonis wasn't a dark power and Steve wasn't giving anything up. He was exactly where he wanted to be, and more importantly, Athonis had finally stopped talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "flagrant display" was talking to someone in Sadrith Mora without having purchased the Hospitality Papers, and the prefect is the only one who considers it flagrant.
> 
> Names:  
> Dres Natasa - Natasha "Black Widow" Romanov, first era. Name is in the FamilyName IndividualName format of the first era Chimer.
> 
> Books:  
> [Great Houses of Morrowind](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Great_Houses_of_Morrowind)  
> [Hospitality Papers](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Hospitality_Papers)


	14. The Telvanni Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Tamriel, the question is not "Is killing acceptable?", but "Under what conditions is killing acceptable?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: slavery, apathy, premeditated murder, violence
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.

_...since the Telvanni vigorously defend the right to own slaves, and since they keep many Argonian and Khajiit as slaves, many Argonians and Khajiit assume they would not be accepted for service with House Telvanni._

_Not true. Telvanni accept all races as candidates for membership._

_And, since the Telvanni are ruled by wizard-lord nobles, many assume they accept only candidates of the highest intelligence and willpower._

_Not true. Telvanni accept candidates of modest intelligence and willpower._  
[...]  
 _Promotion in the ranks of House Telvanni, however, is very difficult for outsiders. Most disconcerting for some potential candidates is House Telvanni's casual acceptance of murder and assassination of rivals as a means to advancement. Those reluctant to prove their worthiness by killing off the competition, and those uncomfortable about competing in such a ruthless atmosphere, might better employ their time and efforts in the Mages Guild._  
-The Affairs of Wizards

 

“When you're like this, it's hard to remember you're only in my service because you were insulting,” Athonis' voice was as warm and relaxed as Steve felt. His fingers threaded through Steve's hair.

“I'm not here because I'm in your service,” Steve said to Athonis' chest. As silly as this topic was, he'd much rather be distracted by Athonis than mourn his dead friends.

“No? You wouldn't be running errands for your secret patron?”

Steve shifted. “Well, yes. Maybe. He did tell me to go away for a few days and get some more experience.” Athonis snickered. Steve insisted, “I do want to do right by you... what should I call you? My lord?” Maybe he could steer the conversation someplace useful.

“Only on formal occasions. I don't require that much formality for everyday matters.” Athonis paused. “You insulted the entire Dunmer way of life. To make up for that, your service must demonstrate respect for Dunmer ways. Once I am sure you will not repeat your mistake, I will release you from service.” Another pause. “I don’t approve of all of my people’s traditions, but they are still my people, and I won’t have some foreigner disrespecting them and me, Saint Nerevar returned or not.”

“Understood.” Even with Nerevar’s memories, Steve was a foreigner. Everything Nerevar knew was several thousand years out of date, which was longer than the Chimer had been separate from the Altmer when Nerevar lived. He didn’t have the right to criticize everything that seemed odd to him. Athonis’ proposed penance for his offense seemed more than fair to Steve. “And in the meantime, you'll be taking a personal interest in my cultivation?” It seemed like being in service to Athonis was of more benefit to Steve than his supposed lord and master.

“Right. Once you're more useful, you can help me keep the peace. It seems like every day there's a new problem that the locals can't solve on their own. Actually, I think I'll make that an ongoing assignment for you: talk to the locals and find out if there are any problems that need solving. But first, let's get breakfast and go see my friend at the Mages Guild. We've killed enough time.”

Steve would have been happy to see how long they could stay in bed together without getting bored, but sloth was not a virtue in either set of his memories. They made themselves presentable and Steve was given the room key, since Athonis expected Steve to need a place to sleep before Athonis did.

Ery, the proprietor, served them a breakfast of mushrooms and crab meat. Steve remembered his cookbook advising against a beginner cooking with mushrooms, but this was obviously an experienced chef, so breakfast was not interrupted by anyone keeling over from food poisoning. It was a tasty change after last night's dinner of scrib jerky by the light of burning cliff racers.

At Athonis' nudge, Steve asked Ery if there were any problems in town that needed solving.

Ery raised his eyebrows. “We do indeed have a problem that needs solving, right here in the Gateway. The south turret room is haunted, and no one can seem to banish the ghost permanently. Me, I think some mage is having a bit of fun at our expense. It's ruining my business. No one's been hurt yet, but I'd rather get it solved before that happens.”

Steve looked at Athonis, who nodded. He turned back to Ery, “I'll look into it.”

“Good,” said Ery. “Angaredhel the prefect is offering a reward. Talk to him if you want more details.” He turned away to serve another customer.

“Go talk to him now,” Athonis said to Steve. “You'll have time to investigate what he tells you after I introduce you to Bruz.”

Steve quickly cleaned his plate and made his way over to where the prefect was writing neatly in a thick ledger. “Pardon me, sir. Ery tells me that you could use someone to look into the Gateway haunting?”

Angaredhel looked up and narrowed his eyes, then huffed. “Well, at least one human tries to be of use. Ery is correct. There is a ghost in the south turret, and even Master Neloth's Mouth, Mage-Mistress Arara Uvulas, was not able to determine why it keeps coming back after being driven away. You can find her with the other Mouths at the Telvanni Council House. If you somehow manage to permanently banish the ghost where your betters have failed, I will reward you.” Angaredhel turned back to his ledger in clear dismissal.

Steve ground his teeth and walked stiffly back to their table. He carefully recorded the details in his journal before complaining to Athonis, “I’m not sure anyone that rude to others deserves help.”

“You're not helping him, you're helping the employees and customers of the inn,” Athonis reminded him. “And you're learning to deal with House Telvanni. I see you managed to resist the urge to punch him. Congratulations.”

Steve smiled, then put on his helmet. “He told me to talk to Master Neloth's Mouth.” That was a position that hadn’t been around in Nerevar's time.

Athonis led Steve downstairs, away from the door they'd entered the inn by. “A Mouth is the representative of one of the wizard-lords on the House Telvanni council. In theory they're supposed to deal with the boring decisions so their patron can focus on research, but they often refer important decisions back to the councilors themselves.”

The lower hallway was an organic tube composed of modular sections, with the ends of each section having a smaller diameter than the center. Fortunately the lower edge was smoothed out so they didn't have to step over a barrier every time they passed to a new segment. A few segments added an alcove to the side of the main hallway. In one of them, a commoner with a bucket of soapy water was scrubbing at a bloodstain.

“Excuse me,” Athonis said to the commoner. “Do you know what caused that stain?”

The commoner stood up, looking grateful for the chance to take a break from scrubbing. “Indeed I do, serjo. A Bosmer picked a fight with an Orc, and the Bosmer won! He had a glass jink blade, and used it to paralyze the Orc,” the commoner mimed stabbing, then being frozen in an awkward position, “then jumped on her back and slit her throat.” The commoner finished his one-mer reenactment with an enthusiastic imitation of blood gushing onto the floor.

“Did the Bosmer have glass boots?” Athonis asked.

“As a matter of fact, he did.”

“Thank you,” Athonis said, and passed the commoner a few coins. “Good day.”

“Good day, serjo.” The commoner stretched his back, then went back to scrubbing.

“My Morag Tong friend is in town,” Athonis explained to Steve in an undertone. The glass that was used to make light armor bore only a superficial resemblance to the kind of glass made from sand. It was difficult to smith, but it made the strongest light armor available. Athonis’ friend must be rich to own a pair of boots that expensive.

“Is your friend not worried about being arrested because he’s a member of the assassin’s guild?” Steve asked.

“Well, if it was a legitimate assassination, he could just show any guard that tried to arrest him the Writ authorizing the murder,” Athonis said. “But since he apparently picked a fight with the Orc instead of just attacking, he probably didn’t have a Writ. He taunted the Orc into attacking him, then killed her, and that’s self-defense, so there’s no bounty on his head for the killing.”

That still left the question of why the Bosmer had wanted to kill the Orc, but that was something Steve might never find out. Since it wasn’t an officially authorized killing, it seemed like not all assassins were as eager to avoid bloodshed as the Morag Tong informant the spymaster had sent Steve to meet in Vivec a few days ago. Steve hoped Athonis wasn’t friends with the kind of person who would kill on a whim.

Just down the corridor was a circular door that took them outside the inn. To the right was the other side of the great stone door that had greeted them from the harbor. To the left was a road uphill. Above was more of the plant material Telvanni constructed their buildings from. They were actually standing in a great plant tube bisected by the stone door.

Athonis led Steve uphill towards the sound of a market. Once they were level with the main road, Steve could see they were standing on the outward side of a crescent, with the road curving away from them in two directions. In both directions, the road was lined with house-sized mushroom pods, each with a round door, and most with stalk-steps up to it. Straight ahead, Steve could see a larger mushroom tower rising from behind the closest house-pod.

“That's Master Neloth's tower, Tel Naga. Down that way,” Athonis gestured along the right arc of the road, “are the imperial guilds, most of which are housed in Wolverine Hall. I don't know why it isn't named after a moth like the other major forts. The only thing down the other way is the Morag Tong Guildhall. The market is just a little this way, and the Council Hall is on the other side of the market.”

Steve turned to look at the market. A Bosmer smith worked at an anvil. A Bosmer apothecary stood behind a display of potions. Another Bosmer had a general goods stand. Steve was sensing a theme here.

A small group of well-dressed Dunmer stood in front of several pods, each just large enough to hold a person. There were bars across the front of the pods, revealing the people trapped inside. Another Bosmer was making a sales pitch to the group, who didn't share his enthusiasm.

Steve froze, staring at the slave pods. There were people being sold, right in front of him, and no one was making a move to stop it. Not even Athonis.

Not even Steve.

“We have to stop this,” Steve said quietly.

“How?” Athonis asked, seeing what had caught Steve’s attention. “In House Telvanni, you can kill anyone who disagrees with you, but House Hlaalu doesn't work like that. Mostly. I don't think you're prepared to murder most of a Great House, though, and just so you know, I wouldn't be backing you up if you tried.”

“What? No! I mean... How can people not see that this is wrong?”

“It's easy, if you're not a slave, and you're raised thinking this is normal, that you have the right to own others. Then you realize that all the luxuries you've become accustomed to wouldn't be possible without slave labor, and you're not willing to give them up, even if it is wrong.”

“Can't you, I don't know, buy them and then set them free?”

“If I bought every slave for sale here today, and I don't know if even I have enough gold for that, then there would be more the next day, and the slave traders would have made a profit. Yes, I could buy slaves and free them, but that would only feed the system. I suppose we could break the slaves out, but the guards would kill them if they saw them escaping, and then there's the problem of getting them off the island. The best way would be to teleport from the Mages Guild here to Vivec and travel from there to Ebonheart. I seriously doubt most slaves could manage that journey on their own without getting caught or killed.”

Steve considered doing nothing. That was unacceptable. Ordinarily he preferred to talk problems into submission, but in this case, he doubted words would make a difference. So... “What if I killed the slave trader?”

Athonis tilted his helmet. “That would stop trading until a replacement could be found. Won't make you any friends in Sadrith Mora, though.”

“I don't want those kind of friends.”

Athonis sighed. “I'd say this doesn't demonstrate respect for the Dunmer way of life, except... you're willing to kill the people who disagree with you, and that is the Telvanni way of resolving disputes. I won't do your fighting for you, though. I am the head of the Imperial Legion, and technically this isn’t against the law. Since you are just my oathman, and not actually a member of the legion, there won’t be as many official complaints about legion interference with local customs. And a word of advice: if you can taunt the slave trader into attacking first, you'll be able to kill him without paying any fines.”

Steve took a deep breath and exhaled. “I can do this.”

Steve walked up to the slave trader and interrupted his sales pitch to explain why slavery was wrong. The Bosmer stared at Steve, then laughed. “Another human who thinks he knows what's best for mer. The fort is that way, worm. Take your preaching elsewhere.”

Well, he had tried politeness first, for form's sake. Steve proceeded to eloquently compare slave owners to necromancers, followers of Molag Bal, and vampires, all of which were even more despised and hunted in Morrowind than they were in the rest of the empire. The group of well-dressed Dunmer were more entertained by the insults than they were by the sales pitch. By the third taunt, the slave trader lost control of his temper and lunged at Steve with a dagger. Steve sidestepped, drew his sword, blocked the second strike with his shield, and ran him through. He removed the dagger from the Bosmer’s hand and laid the cooling corpse on the ground so he could search for the keys to the slave pods.

“Hey, guard!” called one of the well-dressed Dunmer. “Can he do that?”

The guards in Sadrith Mora wore helmets that resembled something with a large head and many tentacles. One, who had watched the whole thing, replied, “The Bosmer attacked first. And since you lot were too slow about actually buying any slaves, you'll have to wait until the next shipment arrives with a new trader. The Imperial clearly has the stronger claim to the slaves here today.”

“Right,” sighed the Dunmer. “I suppose I can wait until tomorrow. Enjoy the fruits of your little victory while you can, n’wah,” he said to Steve before he wandered off with the rest of his group.

Steve found the pod keys and unlocked all three pods. All the slaves were Argonian. “We're going to the Mages Guild, to send you to the Argonian Embassy in Ebonheart,” Steve informed them.

Two of the lizard-folk stared back at him. The third glanced around at the watching crowd and replied, “Lead on, master.”

“...Right.” It was probably best to play along until they were out of Telvanni territory. Steve led a small parade of slaves along the road in the direction Athonis had indicated earlier. Athonis joined the front of the parade before too long, though Steve was in no danger of getting lost.

After passing several mushroom pods, they came to a stone block causeway next to a wood-and-stone building that seemed out of place in Telvanni territory. “Thieves Guild hangout,” Athonis murmured to him. Right.

Athonis took the lead as they crossed the causeway to the fort, and led the way up a flight of stairs and through a door into one of the fort's towers. The room was occupied by two Imperials in priests’ robes. Athonis waved off the Imperials’ questions and waited in front of the Imperial Cult altar for the slaves to catch up. “Does anybody need to pray for healing before we go to the Mages Guild?” Athonis asked. The slaves shook their heads.

Then it was through another door, up one flight of stairs, and into the Mages Guild, which was all one room at the top of the tower. Athonis said to Steve, “Go ahead and lead them all the way to Ebonheart. I’ll wait here.”

The Altmer in charge of teleportation was surprised to see their little parade, but quickly regained her professionalism when Steve requested her services. Steve wondered why Athonis had led him from Ebonheart to Sadrith Mora by ship when they could have just teleported from Vivec, but he could ask him that when he got back. By the time he’d led the three Argonians from the top of the Foreign Quarter to the north bridge of that same canton, Steve noticed one of them was struggling to keep up. Fortunately, there was a convenient alternative to walking the rest of the way.

The Dunmer who had ferried Steve from Vivec to Ebonheart yesterday was accepting customers again today, so Steve paid him and the boat cast off. The Argonians stayed next to the railing. Steve hoped they weren’t going to jump into the water - Argonians could breathe underwater as easily as above water, but that didn’t make them immune to slaughterfish bites.

The Argonian who had spoken to Steve in the marketplace said, “Thank you, landstrider. Most Imperials say they are against slavery, but few actually act. I regret that I have only my gratitude to offer you in payment.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t need any payment for doing the right thing,” Steve told the Argonian. He couldn’t tell whether the person was male or female, and it seemed rude to ask.

“Good works should not be taken for granted,” replied the Argonian. “My name is Climbs-Tall-Tree. May I have yours, friend?”

“Steve. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Climbs-Tall-Tree.”

Steve was able to deliver the Argonians to their embassy without further incident, and received the thanks of Ambassador Im-Kilaya.

On the ferry back from Ebonheart to Vivec, it hit him. He’d murdered someone who pursued a perfectly legal profession in broad daylight, in the middle of a marketplace, and the only reaction was that the prospective slave owners were mildly inconvenienced. And there were three fewer people in bondage, but really, he could incite someone to violence, kill them, and then walk away without the guards even giving him a stern talking to?

It was still better than Nerevar’s time, when Morrowind didn’t even have a unified legal code, and justice was determined by the strongest. Steve’s head hurt.

***

When Steve teleported back into the Sadrith Mora Mages Guild, conversation stopped and everyone stared at him. Then the Argonian in the corner started clapping. Steve uncomfortably nodded in acknowledgement as most of the chapter hall joined in. Thankfully, the mages turned back to their various pursuits and Steve was able to locate and join Athonis at a study nook.

Athonis, helmet off, was actually leaning over the nook’s desk while the Orc in mage robes seated at the desk wrote something. “That would explain the atypical behavior of Oblivion streams on Vvardenfell,” Athonis said to the Orc.

“It could still be the result of a strong polarized daedron field, which we could compensate for,” replied the Orc.

“Not if… hello, Steve.” Athonis straightened up and stepped away from the desk. “Master Wizard Bruz gro-Bashneg, meet Steve. Steve, Bruz.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Steve said politely, wondering if there was something about the Vvardenfell Mages Guild that attracted Orcs, or if they were just underrepresented in plays involving wizards.

Bruz finished his sentence and put his pen down before turning to face Steve. “Hello.”

There was an awkward pause before Athonis jumped in. “Bruz and I decided to work on making magical compasses for Vvardenfell, but the magicka potential on the island is, to use a technical term, wonky.”

Bruz seized on the conversational topic. “So we decided to investigate the cause and work around it. We’ve made a lot of progress mapping the disruption, but no way to work around it. Yet.”

Steve nodded, not really sure what they were doing or why. “What’s a magical compass?”

Athonis and Bruz exchanged a look, and then Bruz turned back to his desk and resumed writing.

“A magical compass shows you the direction of the place you want to go, and roughly how far away it is. Most adventurers carry them, but they don’t work on Vvardenfell,” Athonis informed Steve.

“So if you have one, you don’t have to ask for directions?”

“Right. Though a compass doesn’t tell you how far up or down your objective is, or what’s between you and the objective, so it’s not perfect. They also tend to work inconsistently when looking for people, but that’s a whole other issue. Did everyone get to the embassy all right?”

“Yes, fine.” Steve lowered his voice. “I don’t regret the results, but I’d rather not do that again.”

“You might not have another option,” Athonis replied soberly.

Steve bowed his head. “I know.”

Athonis squeezed his shoulder. “I’m going to be working with Bruz for a while. Go look into that ghost problem.”

Steve nodded, and left the guild. Now, how had they gotten here from the marketplace? He wished he had a magical compass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:  
> Master Wizard Bruz gro-Bashneg - Dr. Bruce Banner
> 
> Books:  
> [The Affairs of Wizards](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:The_Affairs_of_Wizards)  
> [Itermerel's Notes](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Itermerel%27s_Notes) \- sadly short


	15. The Super Extra Very Sovereign Council of Mages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athonis wants all his friends to get along, Steve solves a problem with paperwork, and Bruz explains part of why he's in Morrowind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: discussion of prejudice
> 
> Beta and cheerleading provided by moonbelowsea.

_“But what if a pig or a slaughterfish turned up demanding the property? Would they have the same legal rights as I?”_

_“If they had the proper papers, I'm afraid so,” smiled the judge._  
-How Orsinium Passed to the Orcs

_Orcs are thankfully easy to recognize from other humanoids by their size -- commonly forty pertans in height and fifteen thousand angaids in weight -- their brutal pig-like features, and their stench. They are consistently belligerent, morally grotesque, intellectually moronic, and unclean. By all rights, the civilized races of Tamriel should have been able to purge the land of their blight eras ago, but their ferocity, animal cunning, and curious tribal loyalty have made them inevitable as leeches in a stagnant pool._  
-The Pig Children

 

After the door shut behind Steve, Athonis turned to Bruz. “You could have made more of an effort to be nice. I know you can be more charming than that.”

“Why do you want me to charm him?” Bruz asked, not looking up from his writing. The quill looked small in his large green hands. “If I need muscle, the Fighters Guild is just down the stairs, and if I need stealth, I can ask around at Dirty Muriel's.”

“And if you need charm?” Athonis teased.

“Then I buy some Telvanni bug musk.”

There was an idea. Steve was charming on his own, but with some bug musk on, he'd be irresistible. Athonis made a mental note to buy some before they went home. It didn't hurt to be prepared for charismatic emergencies. “I would like the two of you to get along,” he said to Bruz. “You've avoided getting involved in guild politics as much as you could, but it's always a good idea to have allies. Politics has a way of involving people who try and stay out of it.”

Bruz put down his quill and leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “You think making friends with your fledgling adventurer will be useful to me.”

“You could use more friends, Bruz,” Athonis coaxed. “If he survives, I think he could make a name for himself, and he won't forget the people who helped him when he was a nobody.”

Bruz raised an eyebrow. “After killing a slave trader in the middle of the market, he's not a nobody anymore.”

“See? He's making a name for himself already.”

“Before you start singing his praises, answer me this: what do I have to offer your human?”

“Magical expertise,” Athonis said firmly.

“Why would he ask me when he can ask you? And why would he need magical expertise anyway? Adventurers solve problems by killing things. They're not interested anything that doesn't make that easier for them.”

“He's looking into the Gateway haunting.”

Bruz opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. Thought for a minute. “That could be solved by killing the mage who keeps summoning the ghost back.”

“Please tell me it isn't you.”

“It's not me. I have a good idea who it is, though.”

Athonis sighed. “And you haven't stopped it?”

Bruz shrugged. “It's harmless, and funny.” He grinned, showing off the large teeth common to Orcs. “The great House Telvanni, the experts in magic on Vvardenfell, and they can't dispel a simple haunting.” The smile faded to a smirk. “Besides, Angaredhel had it coming.”

“It's not in Angaredhel's bedroom,” Athonis pointed out.

“No one else would see it in there.”

Athonis stared at Bruz for a second before he laughed, the Orc's sense of humor always a surprise when it happened. “True.”

Bruz allowed himself a smile. “If my theory on who's behind the haunting is correct, then your Steve should be back later making inquiries. Until then... why don't you think we'll be able to compensate for the daedron fields?”

***

Steve wandered Wolverine Hall for several minutes, looking for a door to the outside. He found a couple exits on top of watchtowers, but for the most part he was wandering in circles. Finally, he returned to the tower that housed the Mages Guild, Imperial Cult chapel, and Fighters Guild, and asked one of the Cult priests for directions.

Unlike the Mages Guild and Fighters Guild, the Imperial Cult chapel had two doors. The second door led outside, where a familiar flight of stone block stairs led down to ground level. Steve could see a cliff racer flying around in the distance to the southwest, thankfully too far away for it to notice him.

Steve retraced his steps to the market, aware of everyone's eyes on him. They were probably watching to see if he'd kill anyone else, and that was... fair. Nerevar would have been fine with that sort of attention, since killing the opposition as a means to achieve consensus was considered politics as usual. He did prefer to talk everyone into agreeing with him, but sometimes people made themselves obstacles and wouldn't be persuaded to move. An upper-class Imperial might be fine with those tactics too, though rumor said they hired the Dark Brotherhood to actually do the murdering instead of doing it themselves.

Steve, though, wasn't upper-class. Life was hard enough without having to watch your allies to make sure they weren't sharpening a dagger for your back. He didn't know how someone could live like that, constantly calculating to make sure your allies found you too useful to kill. Except he did know, because Nerevar had known.

He stopped at the apothecary's market stall and bought a couple ash yams, not bargaining too hard since the merchant seemed skittish. When they got back to Balmora, he'd ask Athonis to make him some more tea. Tea wouldn't make everything make sense, but Steve hoped it would ease his mind about it.

Athonis had said that the Mouths were in a building on the other side of the market. They probably weren't in the tavern, which despite being called “Hole in the Wall” was in a mushroom pod separate from any other structure. They probably weren't in the mushroom pod with the banner design that Steve was learning indicated alchemists and apothecaries. They were probably in the giant pod growing off the cliff, suspended over the sea, with a stalk-bridge connecting it to the market. That seemed most likely.

The main room in the Telvanni Council Hall was lit by giant glowing crystals. Five Dunmer in mage robes stood on raised platforms spaced around the perimeter. Steve checked his journal, then approached the closest female. “Are you Mage-Mistress Arara Uvulas?”

“I am. Have you come to join Great House Telvanni?”

They must let anyone join. “No, ma'am. I'm looking into the Gateway haunting, and the prefect said you'd examined the scene?”

“I did.” Uvulas looked at him. Steve was learning that this look, on a mage, meant the mage was calculating how small they'd have to make their words so that the idiot in front of them could understand. “I'll spare you the details-” Steve gritted his teeth “-but there were none of the signs one would expect if the haunting were a natural event. I would ask an expert in summoning magics to look into it further.”

“And you couldn't look into it yourself?” Steve couldn't stop himself from asking.

Uvulas arched an eyebrow. “My duties prevent me from leaving this room for such trivial tasks. I informed Angaredhel of my findings, but he likely also thought it too trivial a task for one of his rank.” Steve was glad his helmet concealed his expression. “It is customary for a reward to be given upon completion of the task,” the Mage-Mistress added, as if everyone didn't know that, and as if that made the nobles' refusal to leave their mushroom pods and actually investigate themselves a reasonable course of action.

“Thank you for your help, Mage-Mistress,” Steve replied stiffly, and left the council chamber.

The attendant in the foyer was kind enough to direct Steve back to the Mages Guild. Apparently Uleni Heleran at the guild was an expert who taught summoning. Hopefully she'd be able to provide more information.

***

An admission of guilt counted as more information, Steve decided. Heleran had come up with this prank in order to embarrass Prefect Angaredhel after he forced her to appear in court over not having hospitality papers. She was willing to end the haunting... as long as Steve did one little thing for her.

_Certification of Ghost-Free Hospitality_

_By Authority of the Super Extra Very Sovereign Council of Mages Without Digits Within Bowels_

_Hereas the Gateway Inn and all its dark and secret places have been found to be completely free of spooks, boojums, snarks, spectral goats, revenant toiletries, or cannibal vampire anchovies,_

_Muthsera Mistress Dunmer-from-Far-Away Mage-Lady, Lord High Inspector of Hostelry for the Town of Sadrith Mora aforesaid, does pronounce the Gateway Inn free and clean of all otherworldly, hostile, and malign entities, with the exception of the profound and displeasing odor that arises from the Prefect of Hospitality, which, despite the preternatural magnitude of its offensiveness, may well derive from altogether more mundane sources._

_Signed,_

_Muthsera Mistress Dunmer-from-Far-Away Mage-Lady_   
_Representing the Super Extra Very Sovereign Council of Mages Without Digits Within Bowels_

Steve looked up from the document he'd been handed, and nodded. “Certainly, ma'am. I'd be happy to deliver this to the prefect for you.”

The expression on Angaredhel's face when he read it was everything Steve could have hoped for. Considering how no one he'd talked to in town had asked to see his Hospitality Papers, Angaredhel was just running a scam to get a few coins from visitors. He had permission from the Telvanni Council to do it, but it was still a scam that only benefited one person in the entire town. Steve's sympathies were with the prankster, now that Heleran had promised to end the potential danger to bystanders. With luck, Angaredhel had learned a little humility from this.

No, that wasn't happening. If Sadrith Mora were lucky, the next salvo in this burgeoning feud wouldn't involve any collateral damage. Anyway, Steve had done what he'd been asked to do, and was rewarded with a choice of magic rings: Fighter, Mage, or Thief. Well, he wasn't a thief or a mage, so Fighter Ring it was.

The Fighter Ring turned out to make you stronger and tougher, but only a little, and only for a few minutes at a time.

In Nerevar's day, magic rings were more useful.

Steve dropped off the room key with Ery the publican. Balmora was only a teleport away, and he had a key to Athonis' house, so there was no point in hanging on to the Gateway Inn room key at all. Steve was done with Sadrith Mora.

***

“I finished the quest, Athonis.”

“-should be negative there? Oh, you're back. Did you figure it out?” Athonis seemed to find it difficult to give Steve his attention. Bruz had several columns of symbols written out, and Steve knew just enough to recognize that it was probably math.

But Athonis couldn't have found math that absorbing, could he? “You missed the cackling? Uleni Heleran, the summoning teacher?”

“Did she use the cannibal vampire anchovies?” Bruz asked Steve.

“There aren't any – wait, you knew about that? You helped?” Had he not said he was investigating the haunting in Bruz' earshot? Yes, he had, and Bruz had let him go without sharing what he knew.

“Before you get upset about me making you walk all the way across this little mushroom farm, let me say this: after you left, Athonis and I talked to Uleni about her prank. No, Athonis didn't know about it before you left. Didn't you think it was a little suspicious that she confessed so easily?”

That did make more sense, but still. Steve frowned and worked through the implications a little. “You let me come up with a solution without implicating yourself as having any knowledge. You didn't share your guildmate's secrets with an outsider. You let an outsider take credit and blame for the solution.”

“Sometimes I wish people would learn to solve their own problems,” Athonis said. “Okay, most of the time. But then adventurers would have nothing to do, and the Telvanni wouldn't have a way to dispose of their cheap jewelry.”

“I do appreciate the way you handled it,” Bruz said to Steve. “Was the look on Angie's face a worthy reward, at least?”

Bruz probably didn't mean the keeping of information to be insulting, Steve thought. He was just being a mage, treating non-mages as non-entities unless they got involved with something that interested him. But was that different from how most people thought of others who weren't part of their group? “The look on his face when he read the note was worth more than the reward he gave me,” Steve allowed. “Is this sort of thing normal? Wizards using their powers for pranks, I mean.”

“Yes,” Athonis and Bruz answered at the same time. They glanced at each other, then Athonis gestured for Bruz to continue.

“I've been kicked out of half the Mages Guild Halls in Cyrodiil, High Rock, and Morrowind, and in every single one there's so much politics and petty bickering that it's amazing anything gets done. Stealing research notes, sabotaging experiments, framing rivals for necromancy...”

Not exactly the kind of behavior one expected from an organization dedicated to spreading and increasing knowledge. “Is that kind of thing why you were kicked out?” Steve asked.

Bruz looked rueful. “Partly. The other part is... I have a temper. And when I lose it, I... do things that merit expulsion. And then in the next chapter hall I go to, the people who take a dislike to me hear from their friends in the other halls how easy it is to set me off, and see it as proof that Orcs don't belong in the Mages Guild... I'm sorry, I'm rambling.”

Steve took off his helmet and pulled up a chair. “I'd like to hear about it, actually. There aren't a lot of doors open when you're poor, sickly, and without family connections. I hadn't thought of how there might be doors closed for other people in other situations, but I'd like to learn.”

Bruz gave Steve an evaluating look, then settled back in his chair. Athonis squeezed Bruz's shoulder, then perched on the desk.

“You might have noticed that there aren't exactly a lot of Orc wizards,” Bruz began. “The 'common wisdom',” Steve heard the air quotes clearly, “is that this is because Orcs are too stupid, too bestial to use magic.” Bruz took a deep, calming breath, and let it out slowly before continuing. “The truth is that Orcs in general don't have as large a magical reservoir as other races do, and so they focus on their strengths. Physical skills come easily to us, so we usually go into smithing or sculpting or building, when we're not fighting. We've had to fight a lot. I think we've had to fight for our existence since the first Orcs were cursed along with the god they followed.”

Steve vaguely remembered a story about how the race of Orcs used to be mer but were changed into the green-skinned race with tusks and unsightly features that they were today, but that was ancient history.

“It's not easy for an Orc to become a good mage,” Bruz said, “but it is possible. Some people believe we're just animals, and a spell-casting Orc should be taken as seriously as a pig dressed up in a robe. Then the pig is shown to be more sensible than them, and suddenly it's not funny anymore. It's a threat to the natural order of things – and that order had them at the top, of course – so it has to go. Eventually I made it all the way out here. There's still bickering and politics, of course, but it's expected for you to defend your honor when people insult you.” Bruz smiled. “It's amazing how much more tolerant people are when obvious bigotry puts them in physical danger.”

“Luckily, most bullies are cowards,” Steve agreed. He hadn't expected to find a kindred spirit in Bruz. Maybe they could be friends after all, if Bruz could be convinced not to withhold any more important information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Books:  
> [How Orsinium Passed to the Orcs](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:How_Orsinium_Passed_to_the_Orcs) \- fiction, but illustrates prejudice in popular culture  
> [The Pig Children](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:The_Pig_Children) \- biased non-fiction  
> [Ghost-Free Papers](http://uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Ghost-Free_Papers) \- the entire thing is included in the chapter itself

**Author's Note:**

> I have found a beta to read through chapters before I post them for readability and to make sure I don't forget to explain something, but we would welcome additional perspectives. If you are interested, please leave a comment. Suggestions are also appreciated.


End file.
